Veränderung
by storiewriter
Summary: AU. When Rin was six years old, he got into trouble at school. Fearing the disappointment of his father, he did not walk home with Yukio; instead, he took a left turn-and future events started to shift. Rated T for safety.
1. Das Blaue Feuer

**A/N: **Welcome to my first AonoEx fic! This story was inspired by "_That Darkest Feeling_" by MyDarkestDesire. I liked the idea behind the story, but my biggest problem with it was how Fujimoto and Yukio reacted. I understand that in the situation shown, Rin would likely flee, but I don't think that Fujimoto especially would react that way. So this story is my version of what would have happened-and it's long, so I hope you enjoy it.

This will be a multi-chaptered fic. I don't know how many chapters, but I'm going to try to stick to the original plotline fairly closely-it's a school situation, after all, so not much will have changed.

This fic will also be updated, at best, on the **last Friday of every month**. You guys have to understand that I am going to Germany for about eleven months in about thirty-four hours. I have started the second chapter and will work on it further to get ahead, but I may not have time. Plus, this helps me keep behind the manga a bit better. I will do my best to make that month-long wait better with longer, more detailed and edited chapters.

I would like to, at this point, give my thanks to my sister, **Oreramar**, for beta-ing these chapters. Her help was necessary to this story, and I wouldn't have gotten as far as I have without her. Plus, the quality would be worse. She has helped a lot. She also draws all my concept sketches, which is nice.

Well, enjoy the first chapter of _Veraenderung_, which means 'Shift' in German. Chapter titles will also be translated.

* * *

><p>Chapter One: <em>Das Blaue Feuer<em>

(The Blue Fire)

.

Rin sat on a stool in the corner, brooding and kicking his little legs back and forth. His classmates, however, were laughing and doing their special weekly art class. Crossing his arms, the messy-haired boy obstinately glowered at the wall to his left. He couldn't tell how much time it had been since he had been put in time out. It felt like _ages_ already, far longer than the allotted time he'd been sentenced. When would the teacher let him rejoin the group?

His teacher hadn't been able to contact his father, so she had no choice but to break up the fight herself. Even though his father told him not to fight a year ago, that he wanted him to be nicer, he couldn't help it! Why was he in such trouble? The others started it, they were picking on Yukio!

His lower lip jutted out and he kicked his legs a little harder, lowering his gaze to the floor. He stopped when she told him to and really was sorry that he'd lost it again. He'd even apologized over and over to the teacher, but she just shook her head and firmly set him in the corner.

_"Rin-chan, you shouldn't do that. Fighting is a mean thing to do. You hurt Chiaki-chan so much that he had to go to the nurse! His wrist is sprained—it isn't working right and it hurts to move. Now, I'll come back here in ten minutes and let you participate, but I want you to apologize to those three boys after school. Okay?"_

_Rin stared sullenly at the floor, shifting his feet a little as he tried to stare a hole into the carpet below him._

_"Okay, Rin-chan?"_

_"…'kay."_

He let out a huff and resisted the urge to turn around on the stool to see how much time had gone by. The teacher didn't want him turning around—she told him that she'd add a minute every time he did, and Rin knew better than to test that threat. He bore with it, even though it was completely unfair.

_"But why aren't they in trouble too? They were sayin' mean stuff to Yukio!"_

_"They didn't punch Yukio-chan, Rin-chan. I'll talk to them about bullying, but you shouldn't have hurt them. Next time somebody starts being mean like that, you need to tell me or another teacher or your father. You can't just lash out at them, Rin-chan, even though you were just trying to protect Yukio-chan."_

_"Why not?" he whined as he got on the stool. "They're hurting him, so why can't I hurt them back?"_

_"That's just not how the world works, Rin-chan." _

_She patted him on the head before leaving to supervise the rest of the class, complimenting a few of them on their pictures._

He uncrossed his arms and looked at his hands, slowly clenching and unclenching them as he remembered the feeling of punching Tsutsui in the cheek. He remembered hitting Noboru on top of the head and then lashing out at Chiaki, who tried to catch it but screamed when the blow simply made his hand snap backwards. Come to think of it, that punch was probably what made the other boy's wrist hurt.

Rin remembered how his father, a long time ago, hurt his ribs trying to make him see sense. How his glasses fell and broke, and how he had to buy some replacements.

Because of that incident, Rin didn't want to hurt people anymore. He wanted to help them, and get lots and lots of friends and be cool, just like his daddy. But then he found Chiaki and Tsutsui and Noboru teasing Yukio, making him cry. And there was no way he was going to help _them_ instead of his little brother! He didn't want to be alone, but…if it meant his brother was safe, then he didn't care.

If they said mean things about him, he would ignore it. But if they kept being mean to his little brother, then he wasn't going to take it lying down. It was one of the simplest, most fundamental self-imposed rules of his life, and he would follow it even if it meant breaking other rules to pieces in the process.

"Rin, would you like to join us now?" The teacher called. With one quick nod, he spun around and made his way over to an empty easel. He felt a little better once free of the corner, but a faint, lingering mood of disappointment and sulkiness hovered over him for the rest of class.

* * *

><p>The teacher made the four of them stay back after school. The others shuffled their feet and flicked their gazes around the room nervously, but Rin faced the other three and stared them straight in the eyes.<p>

"Chiaki-chan, Tsutsui-chan, Noboru-chan, you shouldn't say mean things to others. What you say may hurt them very, very badly, and hurting others, in any way, is wrong."

They nodded glumly, but even at a glance Rin could tell that Chiaki wasn't particularly afraid of the teacher. Rin understood—Chiaki's dad was the master of a dojo, and looked far more intimidating than their teacher could ever be, or so Rin thought from the few times he'd seen Chiaki picked up after classes. Still, as tall and scary-looking as Chiaki's dad was, Father Fujimoto was a thousand times worse when in the middle of a lecture.

"Rin-chan, I believe you have something to say to your classmates?"

He kicked at the carpet with a bare foot, scowled, and managed a grudging "'M sorry."

The teacher prompted, "For…"

"Punchin' you. And makin' your wrist hurt."

Even though they deserved it, though Rin was at least smart enough to leave that part unsaid.

The teacher sighed and stood straight. "All right, Chiaki-chan, Tsutsui-chan, Noboru-chan—you can go home now."

Rin looked up sharply, opening his mouth to ask why _his_ name wasn't in there, but stopped as the teacher gave him a look. He began scowling at the ground while the other boys gathered their belongings and headed out the door.

There was silence for a moment before the teacher spoke up. "Rin-chan, I called your home again. Your father answered."

Cold, solid guilt resumed its grip on his gut, and he glued his gaze to the floor. The scowl between Rin's eyes lost some of its force, softened by worry and momentary regret.

"He said that he wouldn't be able to pick you up today, but wanted to talk to you when you got home."

Rin stayed quiet, once again fearing the disappointment of his father. He shifted, then gritted out a reluctant "'kay," when he realized the teacher wanted some form of acknowledgement.

The teacher patted him on the head. "I just wanted to let you know, Rin-chan. Go on home."

He nodded and assembled all his things in the little bag he brought to school with him before exiting the room. All the while, the guilt in his gut refused to subside.

The moment the outside door opened, Yukio lurched up off the bench he'd been waiting on.

"Rin!"

Rin swallowed his true expression to grin widely at his little brother.

"Hey, Yukio."

They walked out of the school together, briskly at first since Yukio seemed in a hurry to get home. Rin, wanting to prolong that same walk, suddenly found himself doing something to his twin which he'd never even imagined.

"Um, Yukio?"

Yukio stopped, blinking large blue eyes.

"Hm?"

_He lied_.

"I gotta be at the park in a bit—d'ya mind going home without me?"

His brother looked at him and asked innocently, "Why do you need to be there?"

"S'nothing," Rin said, looking away. It was suddenly very hard to meet that trusting, open gaze. "Just somethin' I gotta take care of…won't be too long. Promise."

Yukio hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

At the next corner, Rin grinned and waved at his brother as Yukio walked straight on, following the trusted path that would lead him home.

Once the light changed, Rin turned left and crossed the street, confident that he would find his way. He went down another block and turned left again, then made a few more turns and then found himself completely and utterly lost.

The buildings in this area were dingier, taller, and placed closer together than he was used to. The apartment two stories up on the other side of the street had a scraggly little flower garden growing, and the one next to it was decorated with grungy old wind-chimes that clinked and clanked eerily in the slight breeze. Most, if not all, of the apartments seemed empty and devoid of noise. Then again, the work day wasn't over, so it was fairly understandable.

Rin, despite the hairs raising on the back of his neck, found a bench and sat down to regain his breath. He shifted his bag off his back and set it beside him before leaning back onto the concrete wall behind him. Just as he was about to get up and leave again, movement flashed in the corner of his eye, and he moved his head up and tilted it a little to the right.

Across the street, hanging around an alleyway, were a bunch of older kids. Four of them each held a can of something, one of them with a cigarette between his fingers. Two of those four were on the ground, rolling a couple of dice and exchanging money. A boy and a girl weren't drinking anything but were slouched on the ground playing a game of cards.

One of the dice-rollers, who had looked up, caught sight of Rin. A lopsided smile found its way onto his tattooed face, and he swayed unsteadily to his feet. "Hey, kid, what're you lookin' at?"

The others looked at Rin, just having noticed his presence.

"Hey hey, where're your parents, huh?"

"Wanna come and join us 'n a game? We play nice."

"Yeah," one started giggling uncontrollably, "We don' bite too hard!"

Rin put on his bravest face and turned his head away from them, hand snaking to grab a hold of his bag. "Go 'way, I don't want to play with you guys."

One, with spiked-up black hair dyed bright electric blue at the tips, stuck his tongue out at Rin. Something on it glinted. "What, 'choo a scaredy cat?"

"Yeah, you a wimp?" another with a stud of metal in his eyebrow sneered at the small boy, nearly falling over before he found the wall to brace himself with.

Rin stood up abruptly and found himself stalking over to them, irritated that they would call him such things. Once on their side of the street, he took a breath and said very loudly, "I'm not a scaredy cat, you jerks!"

For some reason, they found that very funny. All of them collapsed into roaring fits of laughter. Rin began to feel a bit uneasy, and his hands clenched into fists

"Aww," the sole girl in the group cooed, fingernails long and painted a metallic dark purple, "isn't he so cute?" She stood up and reached over to pat him on the head, sniggering as she did so.

Rin batted the hand away. "Shut up, you old hag!"

They started laughing again.

"Heh, Koneko, he called you a hag!" guffawed the one who'd been playing cards with her.

She turned around and kicked him with a leather high-heeled boot. "Shut up," she snarled at the brunette, and kicked him again for good measure. It seemed to Rin that these kicks were light, and she had a smile on her face. Older people were weird.

Rin suddenly found himself pulled against the jeans of the blue-tipped boy. "Hey, we jus' wanna play, kid. C'mon, it'll be fuuuuun!"

Panicking a little, Rin managed to squirm out of the boy's hold, but tripped over his own feet trying to get away.

He hit the ground hard, scuffing up a knee and the bottom of one hand as it instinctively shielded his face. Rin whimpered a little, and felt tears form in the corners of his eyes.

The older kids kept laughing, louder than ever before. _I won't cry in front of them_, he told himself. _I won't cry_.

Somebody hoisted him up by the arm, sounding a little concerned underneath the slur of the words. "Hey, kid, y'allright?"

Tattoo-face grabbed him from the concerned one. "Hey, hey, I got a game! Koneko-chan, catsch!"

Rin was shoved in a direction unknown to him, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet. His shoulders were gripped by thin fingers, the nails digging into him slightly. "Why'd you pass him t'me, Manato-kun?" she whined, before snickering and pushing him in another direction. Instead of resisting, he went with the flow and stumbled towards the next person, stud-brow, with a tiny fist cocked back and ready to strike.

Before he could make contact, a hand was holding his forehead and preventing him from getting anywhere near the target. "Hey, spi'fiaaaaa, easy!"

The laughter was loud, ringing in his ears and making him angrier and angrier. He kept trying to lash out, to punch somebody, but he was never able to hit.

"_Lemme go!_"

"Hinata-kun, catch!"

Suddenly, he was shoved from the side, and the hands that were supposed to catch him were never there as he tipped over and hit his head on the sidewalk. The laughter ceased.

"Hinata-kun, y'were s'pposed t'catch hiiiiiiiiiim…"

"Shut uuuuup," one drawled, "'S'not my fault."

His head and heart pounding, Rin shifted and pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking dazed.

"Seeeee, he's fine."

A couple of them started chuckling a little, comparing the look on his face with something else, and Rin saw blood.

He didn't want to hurt people. He really didn't. But they were being mean and hurting him and then _laughing_. He could fight back, couldn't he?

"Poor lost little brat, with nowhere to go to. He's gonna start spouting water next!" the girl said, and started laughing.

"Hey, that's goin a bit too far…" Rin dimly heard one of the older kids say, but he was gone at that point. His head had already snapped over to the girl, his eyes were wide and his pupils had contracted.

They barely noticed it before he was in front of the girl and punching the one thing he could reach—her stomach.

Rin barely noticed her eyes go wide and spit fly out of her mouth before he was hit in the cheek, causing him to fall down again.

"You little—" the guy who'd been playing cards with the girl swore at Rin, standing over him with something glinting in his hand. The laughing had stopped completely.

"Kichirou-san, dat's goin' too far!"

"Stop, Kichirou-kun!"

"_SHUT UP_! _I'm GONNA KILL HIM!_" the brunette roared, stabbing down at Rin's head. A hand pulled the knife out of its dangerous path, but it still sliced a long gash through Rin's upper right arm. Rin screamed, tears flowing out of his wide eyes.

_He's going to kill me._

"Kichirou! I know yer mad 'n all, but that's illegal!"

"_Get off of me! That brat coulda killed our kid_!"

A blue-spikes and his buddy, stud brow, tried to restrain the furious teenager, but he was obviously strong and they were having a lot of difficulty.

_He's going to kill me._

The girl was retching in the corner, her brow furrowed in pain and her hands holding her barely bulging stomach.

_**He's going to kill me**__._

Rin started hyperventilating and made a few motions to get out of the way, the others trying to drag him back with them.

Seeing this, the brunette wrestled his arm away from the others, and before they could react, he'd stabbed the knife downwards again.

Rin screamed and held out his hands, turning his head away as something primal inside him pushed its way out and suddenly there was light and surprised gasps and screams and all other sound stopped.

"_God, _he's _burning_!"

"Let's ge' outta here!"

The teenagers ran away, tripping over themselves in their haste and leaving cards strewn all over the place.

Rin blinked and then looked up at his hands in wonder.

Blue flames were running up and down his arms, winding around his fingers and licking at the air. He stared at them even as they slowly disappeared with his slowing breath and heartbeat, and stared at his hands long after they were gone.

Shakily, he stood up and went over to his bag, hoisting it up with trembling arms and feeling like he had when he'd run all the way home, once.

In a daze, his arm throbbing even worse than his scraped hand and knee, he went over to ask a nice old lady who'd come out in the commotion where the park was. He hid the gash on his arm by holding his bag over it, and she only looked at his scrapes and shook her head before giving him the directions.

Once at the park, his head was significantly clearer, and he sat on the swings, staring at his hands. After he got over the terror of the situation, he had to admit that the flames were cool and that he wanted to see them again.

He wanted to be able to control them. He wanted to show Yukio and Daddy and everybody else what he could do, that he was really special.

Of course, he couldn't show them if he couldn't make the flames come back again.

Rin squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips, straining with all his might to make the fire come back.

It didn't.

For the next five minutes, he tried to make the fire appear again. He gave up for a while, and then was at it again for another five minutes.

* * *

><p>Rin had completely forgotten why he hadn't wanted to go home that evening, and it was a slightly worried and flustered Fujimoto Shiro that found Rin looking at his hands with his bangs obscuring his eyes.<p>

"Rin!"

The boy looked up quickly, surprised at seeing his father in the park. "Daddy!" Rin hurriedly hopped off the swing and picked his schoolbag up off the ground.

Fujimoto reached Rin quickly and crouched before him, having seen the bloody tear through the sleeve of his son's T-shirt. "Rin, are you okay?"

Rin cocked his head at him, blue eyes wide. "Huh?"

"What happened?" Father Fujimoto gently touched the skin above the gash. "I know you've been in a fight, but I doubt those children had a knife with them. Where were you today?"

The six-year-old shuffled his feet and looked down a little. "…I got lost."

"…And?"

"There were these older kids, and they were actin' real funny. They were drinkin' somethin', but it smelled nasty." Rin wrinkled his nose at the memory, but looked back up at Fujimoto.

Fujimoto already knew this wasn't going to end well.

"And, and they were teasin' me and called me a wimp and a scaredy-cat, and I told them that I wasn't. They said they wanted to have fun and I was being pushed around over and over and they kept _laughin_'."

Rin went quiet and started staring at the ground again. Fujimoto sighed, but slowly pulled the kid into a hug. They were both silent for a few moments before Rin started speaking again, bolstered by the physical contact.

"…I got real mad. I punched a girl in the stomach. It looked like it hurt her a lot. I didn't want to hurt her, I promise!"

Fujimoto squeezed Rin for a few moments, then released the pressure as he said, "I believe you. It's okay."

His son was quiet for a few moments before continuing. "…and one of them went crazy. He was screamin' at me about killing a kid and he tried to hurt me in the head with a knife, but somebody stopped him and told him no. That's where I got hurt here," he gestured to the gash in his arm. "He wouldn' stop, Daddy. He kept screaming, but…"

Rin hesitated, but continued after seeming to mull things over. Fujimoto wanted to see his face, but he knew that making sure Rin knew he wasn't in trouble for this was far more important than maintaining eye contact.

"But the others kept him away from me and let me get away. I asked an old grandma where the park was and jus' stayed here."

They stayed there for a while longer before Fujimoto Shiro held Rin out at arms length, careful to keep Rin's eyes on his, and began to explain things.

"Rin, did that lady—the young one— look a little fat around here?" He gestured to the stomach.

The six-year old looked upward in a thoughtful matter. "I guess…"

"That means that she's making a baby."

Rin's eyes snapped back towards him and his mouth made an 'O' shape. "What 'bout the crazy man?"

Fujimoto nodded. "He was probably the daddy, and was very upset that you hurt her because he loved her very much. The way you punched her, Rin," he said solemnly, "might have hurt both her and the baby she was making."

Shuffling his feet, Rin looked down again. When he looked back up, there were tears in his eyes. "Did I…did I really hurt them bad?"

"Nah, I doubt it," Fujimoto said lightly. "You don't punch that hard. But still…"

At his father's suddenly more serious and scolding face, Rin gulped.

"Punching is not the right way to go about things, no matter who it is. The fact that you sprained your classmate's wrist only makes it worse."

"But they were teasin' Yukio!" Rin burst out, eyes passionate. "I'm not gonna stand 'round and do nothin' when they do that! I'm gonna protect him!"

Despite himself, Fujimoto felt his face start to soften, but became stern once more. "Rin, even if your motives are in the right, your _actions_ were in the wrong. Were the others punching or kicking him?"

Rin opened his mouth to argue back.

"Rin! Answer me."

"…no." Rin sullenly replied.

"Then why did you punch them?"

"'Cause I wanted to make 'em stop!"

Fujimoto shook his head. "Rin, when somebody does something you don't like, you can't use violence to stop them. It would have been better had you told a teacher _before_ taking the situation into your own hands—they might have gotten a harsher punishment for bullying."

Rin looked down at the ground again and scowled. "But I don't like it. I don't like not being able to make sure that they hurt as much as Yukio did inside."

"The ends don't justify the means, Rin."

The six-year-old looked at him in confusion.

"It means that even if you want to do the right thing, you can't do _wrong_ things to achieve that right thing." Still seeing confusion on the child's face, he continued on. "Like…if you wanted to get a special gift for Yukio, you wouldn't go stealing money to get it, right? It's a nice thing to do, but you did the wrong things to do it, so it isn't nice any more."

The Paladin saw Rin's face light up in understanding. Letting out a small sigh and a smile, the elder man shifted backwards a bit. "Do you understand now?"

"Yeah…" Rin said, abashed now that he saw the point. "Are…are you mad at me?"

He barked out a short laugh. "Mad? Nah, you couldn't make me truly mad."

"Are…you unhappy?"

"A little," he said softly, "but I believe that you'll make the right choices now."

Fujimoto Shiro was rewarded by a small grin from his adopted son, and chose that moment to groan. "Ooooooooh, these bones aren't as young as they used to be, I'm getting stiff!"

He proceeded to stagger upright and make a show of stretching his arms out. Fujimoto _did_ almost crumple over when he cracked his back, causing Rin to cry out in shock.

"Daddy, are you okay?"

"Never better," he laughed with eyes closed. Squinting one open, he asked, "What, did you think your Daddy would be defeated by a simple stretch? Huh?"

Rin shook his head furiously. "Nuh-uh!"

"All right, then!" Fujimoto exclaimed, turning around and squatting. "What do you say to a piggy-back ride?"

The boy yelled excitedly, grabbing his bag and then literally jumping onto Fujimoto's back. He winced, but laughed all the same as Rin's thin arms wrapped around his neck, hands holding the bag that was now draped over his chest.

"Up we go!" Fujimoto shot up and pretended to stumble to the side, causing Rin to shriek in laughter. It wasn't until they left the park that Fujimoto stopped staggering and instead adopted a smoother, more normal pace.

"Hey, Daddy?" Rin ventured after some time had passed. The streets around them were becoming familiar; home wasn't far away.

"Hm?"

"I'll do it. I'll stop hurting people. Promise."

"That's good, Rin. You just remember, men keep their promises. Always."

"Mm!" He felt Rin nod against his shoulder enthusiastically, and smiled. They returned home without a word further.

* * *

><p>Rin never forgot about the blue fire. He never stopped practicing when he was alone, so that he'd have a surprise for Yukio and Daddy.<p>

Sometimes, it got really hard to do this, especially as Yukio didn't want him going anywhere without him and Daddy arrived every day to pick them up from school. Even if he was busy, the older man would stop what he was doing to ensure they got home safely. Rin's incident with the teenagers seemed to have made him a little less lax on the walking to-and-from school issue. If he went on an overnight trip (as he was prone to do every once in a while), Rin and Yukio would find one of the clergy waiting for school to get out.

But Rin kept at it, stealing time away when he was in a little-known corner of the playground at school, at night under the covers of his bed while Yukio was fast asleep—when he was desperate enough, he even took a few extra minutes in the bathroom to practice. He was determined to be able to show this cool talent off to his father and his brother, and there was nothing stopping him.

It was weeks later when the first little flicker of blue passed over his fingertips, while he was crouched behind a stack of boxes that were full of items that had been donated to the church. These items were going to a nearby orphanage which had had funds cut a little too tight for their own good.

He was so startled that he jerked backwards, stumbling into another group of boxes, which were filled with clothing for all ages of children. One toppled over when he hit it with his head, causing a crash to be heard and his head to start aching.

Rin had been told that while his offer to help was kind, he really needed to work on the homework over Kana that had been assigned. With that, he was chased off.

A few days later, he was seeking refuge in the cellar of the monastery from all the little bugs that seemed to have multiplied by the thousands in the past month. There weren't any down there, and the church was full of people after the weekly Sunday session. He wouldn't be missed, not with the crowd, so he took advantage of this opportunity to try again.

This time, he concentrated as hard as he could, eyes open and straining at his fingers. Sweat had started to bead at his forehead before one flicker slowly formed in the center of his palm. He was taken with surprise, but when the flicker began to die out his determination not to let it go out spiked. The fire grew and spread, coating his hand with the flames. Rin left it to burn for a few moments, then let it go slowly, little by little. A small little bit of it stayed for a moment, and then blew out suddenly.

In that instant, he felt exhausted, his legs shaking and his arms feeling as though they had no bones inside them. His chest heaved as he tried to recover from the stress of making the fire return, and he had to lean back against the cool concrete wall of the cellar to keep his torso above his legs.

Rin stayed there for a long, long time, fighting against the urge to sleep before he finally succumbed to it. It didn't seem like much later when he was woken up by a yell.

"He's down here!"

There were footsteps that seemed disjointed from the real world as he woke up, still half-asleep and sore from resting in such an awkward position.

It was a few moments before his father's face appeared in his blurry vision. "Rin! What are you doing down here?"

The boy blinked a few times before sluggishly wrinkling his nose. "Too crowded. Sleepy." He then held his arms up in a silent plea.

His father's eyes widened a little in surprise. "You're not usually this tired, Rin…" He extended his arm out to touch Rin's forehead, and murmured something about it being clammy.

Next thing he knew, he was being carried up the stairs and then tucked into bed after being given some medicine.

The next two days, he missed school and was kept in bed, sick.

On Wednesday, he was taken to school with a slightly worried Yukio, but Rin had insisted on going to class. Once they were let out for a fifteen-minute break, he played a little on the swings before vanishing into his corner to try to conjure the fire again.

He managed it, but was still very tired once he finished. Rin ended up falling asleep in class, and was taken home early.

That night, while very sleepily trying to stay awake, he heard his father come into the room. Yukio was sleeping on a futon in the priest's room as to not be infected by whatever Rin had caught, so being bed-ridden was even more boring.

"…Daddy?" he asked blearily, blinking at the dark figure of his father shutting the door of the room.

His father didn't answer. He silently crossed the room and knelt down by Rin's bed. A hand slid up to check his forehead, and it was wonderfully cool. Rin closed his eyes, then pressed his head into the hand, a little smile of contentment on his lips.

The hand was taken away, and he frowned, opening his eyes into lazy slits to blearily glare at his caretaker.

Fujimoto's face, a little unclear in the dark, still formed itself into a recognizable smile before folding itself into worry. He stood, tucked the sheets firmly around Rin's shoulders, and then bent down to ruffle the boy's hair gently.

"Get better, Rin," he said softly. "It isn't the same without you running around."

Rin managed to get out a little hum of agreement before his father straightened up and then quietly left the room.

Despite being so tired, Rin couldn't wait to practice again, so he kept himself up through pure will and excitement for about fifteen minutes, before he loosened the covers and ducked under them.

The flames came much easier, and he held them as long as he could stand before they abruptly blew out. It was all the little boy could do to pull his head from under the covers and let it hit the pillow, feeling much colder than before.

The rest of the week, he was kept home from school, no matter how much he contested it, which admittedly wasn't much. He was too tired from practicing, and that on top of his original sickness. That Saturday, he spent half the day sleeping, and his father was getting more and more worried.

When Rin overheard his father talking about possibly taking Rin to the hospital on Sunday, the boy knew that he had to just rest for a bit. Taking a break from practices was better than being in a _hospital_, he thought. Besides, he'd been getting less and less tired every time he pulled the fire out—if he got back to normal, maybe he wouldn't be so sick the next time he tried.

Rin rested for a few days at a time before practicing, ensuring that he stayed out of the hospital and under the 'overly-concerned' radar that his father seemed to have suddenly manifested. The progress he made was slow, slower than he would have liked and he came close to simply practicing hours in a row several times. In fact, he'd started to do that once, frustrated to no end, and heard one of the clergy commenting on how Rin seemed to be going under the weather again. Needless to say, he proceeded with far more caution from then on.

Rin wanted this surprise to be _completely _unexpected. He wanted to see Yukio's jaw drop and his father's face filled with pride and awe. It was worth the long wait if he could see those reactions, he thought.

It was about a week later that he was able to practice a total of a half-hour every day without getting overly exhausted.

A week after that, he showed nearly no signs of fatigue after an hour of training interspersed throughout the day.

The next day, he was ready to show his family.

* * *

><p>Fujimoto had noticed the excitement in Rin's actions that morning, how bright and enthusiastic he was about going to school. He didn't know if something special was going to happen that day, but he certainly suspected it.<p>

As he watched his son bounce up and down in his seat while waiting for his breakfast to be finished, he recalled the long week of illness half a month ago, and frowned a little. It was still confusing and a little suspicious that Rin would be sick so long; generally, the child tended to be violently sick for about two days, if that, before suddenly getting better.

Sick days didn't happen often, either.

"Daddy, what's wrong?"

Shiro looked down at his youngest before adopting a smile. "It's nothing, Yukio. I'm fine."

Yukio looked to the left furtively, where his oblivious brother was vibrating with energy, and then looked back at his father. "…Does it have to do with Rin?"

The man let out a sigh. "You're too smart for your own good, Yukio. And that's a good thing," he added with a grin, pitching his voice so that it would now carry to Rin, "seeing as your brother has more than enough energy to make up for the both of you. It's only fair that you get his share of the brains."

Rin spun around from where he was watching the food, a little glare in his eyes. "Hey! I'm smart too!"

Fujimoto grinned and leaned over the table to ruffle Rin's hair. "I'm sure you are, Rin. It's just a different smart."

A thickly-built clergy member with a large stomach chuckled in the corner, where he was cooking up the rice. "A different kind of smart indeed! Maybe if you spent half the time Yukio-chan does on his schooling, you'd be doing better!"

Though the comment was worded harshly, it was said in a light, jesting tone. Despite this tone, Rin hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "Shut up."

The priest chuckled, but was unable to tease Rin further as the food had finished. Rin's eyes lit up, and suddenly Fujimoto could tell that the world consisted of only Rin and Rin's food. Shiro ducked his head and grinned, catching Yukio's eye and winking. Yukio stared shyly back at his father before giving a passive smile in return.

Rin was a bundle of energy on their walk towards school. While Yukio was content to walk by his father's side, Rin kept running about, often times trying to drag both Yukio and Fujimoto along with him. The man was so engrossed in the elder twin's actions that he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until he left them at the school.

He had turned back to wave one last time when he saw, while Rin was waving back, the same boy suddenly have a flash of irritation cross his face. In the next instant, Fujimoto watched as Rin waved away one of the Coal Tars that had been hanging around him.

Before he could call out to Rin, the twins had already waved one last time and had entered the building.

Fujimoto was home much, much sooner than usual that day. He'd burst into the house, entering the room where the chest of drawers was kept before swiftly taking the Kamikakushi key off his neck. In one smooth movement, he'd stuck it in the keyhole of the third drawer up from the bottom of the case and turned it. He wrenched it open, almost afraid of what he would see in the container.

And there it was. The crossguard, glinting just a little too much on one side to be earthly, made him stand stock still for a moment before mechanically closing and locking the drawer again. He removed the key and placed it back around his neck before slowly turning and sliding down the front of the chest bonelessly.

"It wasn't supposed to happen so soon," he said quietly, leaning his head into a hand and staring at the floor. "He's only six. Why so _soon?_"

If Rin had been older—much older, around ten years older—he wouldn't be so worried. He could simply explain the situation to Rin and, if the flames of Satan manifested themselves, sent him off to Mephisto quietly. But now…he was just _six_. You don't tell a _six year old_ that he's actually the son of the most evil, most powerful demon in history.

All Fujimoto could do was keep a careful eye on Rin and keep him away from any Exorcists that might be able to tell the difference between a little boy and the son of Satan. He wouldn't _stand_ for anybody trying to kill a sweet, good-hearted six-year-old boy just because of who fathered him. The fact that he was Paladin didn't help at all in this case—he might have been able to get away with harboring a son of one of the eight demon kings, but the son of Satan? The Vatican would take Rin—take both Yukio _and _Rin—away from him without a word in their defense.

Fujimoto's left hand clenched and his jaw tightened. The best he could do now, he reminded himself, was watch and keep Rin safe from both Demon and Exorcist.

"…Sir?"

Shiro looked up at the clergy member standing in the doorway. "Yes?"

The man scratched the stubble on his chin before asking, eyebrows furrowed, "Is everything all right? You came in here rather suddenly…" he took note of the chest of drawers Fujimoto was leaning against, and his eyes widened. "Is Rin…"

"It seems as though he's awakening a lot sooner than we thought he would…" Fujimoto leaned forward and sighed. "I don't know if he's manifested his flames yet, but we need to watch him more carefully."

The clergy member nodded. "I'll tell the others. Sir, you have a mission request in a few hours…it's supposed to be an overnight thing. They said that while they don't _need_ the Paladin, it would certainly make the mission a lot easier."

Fujimoto stood up. "Who's on the mission?"

"Mainly middle- to high-class Exorcists. So far, it's a party of about five. Two Dragoons, an Aria, an Exorcist doubling in Aria and Tamer, and a Doctor."

"Mission itself?"

"They've received sightings of the King of Rot in Nagasaki. People there are getting a lot sicker than usual, and the Coal-Tar count has increased to an all-time high. Ghouls have also increased in number."

The priest thought about it, but shook his head. "They've covered almost all the bases, and I specialize in Dragoon and Aria to begin with. They'll be fine."

"I'll send the note out." The clergy member bowed his head slightly and left the doorway.

Fujimoto Shiro rubbed the back of his head and sighed before moving to follow his subordinate. At the doorway, he paused and looked back at the innocent-looking chest of drawers. After a long moment, the priest faced forward again and left the room, ready to tackle the abbey-related paperwork in his room.

He hoped, if only for Rin's sake, that there wasn't anything wrong.

* * *

><p>That day, Rin had been absolutely unable to focus on <em>anything <em>that resembled schoolwork. He shifted, fidgeted, and was incapable of staying still for more than ten seconds at a time. The teacher took note of it and warned him several times, but even then he only stilled for a minute at best before reverting to his hyperactive self. As the day wore on, he became more and more excited, so much that by the end of school, Rin was very nearly vibrating in his seat.

The very _moment_ the bell rang, Rin was out of his seat and had grabbed his bag. The moment after, he was out of the room and bouncing up and down outside Yukio's classroom with a wide smile on his face.

The door opened and children streamed out of it, but none of them were Yukio. Even after the door had closed again, Yukio was not out of his classroom. Curiosity bettered Rin, and he opened the door tentatively.

Yukio was being talked to by his teacher, who was kneeling on the ground in front of him. They were conversing quietly until the squeak of the door caused them both to turn their heads in Rin's direction.

The first thing Rin saw was the small bruise on Yukio's right cheek. The second was the tear tracks that lay on his cheeks.

That's all he needed to go to his brother's side.

"Yukio, what happened? Tell me who did it, I swear I'll bea—talk 'em into cryin'!"

The teacher shook her head at him. "No, Rin-chan. I'm going to be talking to your father—could you go get him for me? He should be waiting outside for you two."

Rin opened his mouth, but then closed it at the look in Yukio's wide eyes. With a quiet that went completely against his actions of the day, Rin nodded and left the classroom as quickly as his little legs could move.

His father was waiting on one of the benches outside the school. When Rin pushed open the door of the school, Fujimoto looked up and rose with a small smile on his face. "Rin!"

"DADDYYYYYY!" Rin yelled, racing over to the bench.

"What's wrong?" Fujimoto stood abruptly, just in time to catch a desperate bundle of six-year-old boy between his arms and his stomach.

"Yamauchi-sensei wants to talk to you – it's 'bout Yukio. He looks like he got hurt today!"

Fujimoto was quiet for just a brief moment. Then he ruffled Rin's hair and gently guided him to one side, opening a path between himself and the doors. "Thank you for telling me, Rin."

Rin grasped Fujimoto's right arm and began tugging the man toward the school entrance. "C'mon! Just hurry!"

"Of course. Now stay here until we come back, all right? Good boy," the old man said, gently extracting his arm from Rin's grip before striding away, vanishing into the school.

Rin watched him disappear before turning around and making his way over to where his father had been sitting. Angrily shooing a small bug out of the way, he sat and set his bag down beside him.

And then he waited.

It was a long while before Yukio and his Daddy came out of the school, with Yukio holding onto Daddy's hand with his left and carrying his bag with his right. Rin brightened up a bit before grabbing his bag, hopping off the bench, and running over to them. He slowed down and took his Daddy's bigger hand with his small one, content this time to simply walk with his family. Nevermind that some stupid bully had hurt Yukio and made him cry. Daddy was sure to fix it somehow, if he hadn't already.

They walked in relative silence for the first couple of blocks before Fujimoto started explaining to Rin what had happened.

"Rin, do you remember those boys that were teasing Yukio a couple weeks ago?"

Rin looked up and nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, today they decided that they wanted to be mean. They wanted Yukio to give them something, but he refused to, which made one decide to punch him."

The little boy stared up at his father, mouth open. "They _punched_ him?" he squeaked out, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Yukio grip their father's hand tighter.

Fujimoto nodded. "They got in trouble with the teacher, who's going to talk with their parents tomorrow morning."

Rin nodded decisively. "Good." He then looked at Yukio from around their father. "You okay, Yukio?"

"…Mm." Yukio quietly intoned.

"I hope they have to stay home _forever_," Rin said vehemently, "'Cause they're…they're _jerk-faces_." He somehow refrained from mentioning that if they did go back to school, he would be real quick to punch them back for Yukio.

Yukio gave a small smile at this, and they were quiet until they were about a block from home.

"Hey, hey…" Rin said, a little louder than he'd been talking before. "Can I show you guys somethin' cool?"

Fujimoto raised his eyebrow at Rin. "Like what?"

"Like I've been workin' and workin' on it for _weeks_ cool!" Rin's grin widened and he looked first at his father, then at his brother. "Promise, it's _real_ cool!"

There was a strange look that flashed across his father's face when he looked up at it again, but it passed quickly into a smile. "Okay, I'll see it. Is that okay with you, Yukio?"

His brother looked torn by something, but then gave a quiet smile. "Okay."

This gave Rin the energy and confidence to then drag Fujimoto and Yukio home as fast as he could, chattering on and on about how _cool_ this thing was and how they'd really, _really_ think that it was awesome and doing his best to make Yukio smile. He pulled them past the open gates and to the front door, pausing only to open it and then drop his bag in the doorway. By this time, his father was chuckling and his brother had a little grin quirking at the edge of his lips.

He danced from foot to foot by where the cellar was, waiting for Yukio and his father to finish saying hello to all the clergy members. "Come ooooooon!" he whined, his patience past wit's end.

"Why do we need to be down there, Rin?" The priest asked, a grin on his face.

"'Cause it's a secreeeet! Hurry uuuuuup, pleaaase!"

Fujimoto, still laughing lightly, opened the cellar door for them both, Rin pounding down the stairs in an instant while Yukio took each step one at a time, wary of the darkness. Pausing only to flick on the light switch and grin at the clergy members behind him, Fujimoto followed.

Once down in the underground room, Rin told them both to sit down and be amazed. As they did so, he lifted his right hand, palm up, and concentrated _very_ hard.

Blue flames appeared on his hand, licking at the air and crawling over his skin. Rin then looked up, a bright expression on his face that faltered a little when he saw the look on his father's face.

It was something like dread and astonishment mixed in one. Yukio looked just a tad frightened.

"…Daddy?" Rin asked, voice unsure and hand lowering just a little.

Fujimoto startled out of whatever he was thinking about, looking now at Rin's face instead of the flames. Something softened in his eyes, and he rose to his knees.

"Rin, that is a very amazing thing you can do. How did you figure it out?"

Still unsure and feeling his stomach tie itself in knots, Rin answered, "Well, y'know those older kids 'bout a month ago? I was gettin' really really scared when the crazy-man kept saying he wanted to kill me and he'd gotten away from the other older kids and was going to hurt me again when I held my hands out and the fire stopped him. They ran 'way after that."

Yukio looked more upset now. "…somebody tried to kill you?"

Rin let the flames out and looked to the side nervously. "…yeah. 'M sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

The younger twin shot to his feet and then launched himself at Rin, who found himself in the middle of a very unexpected hug.

"Wha…?"

"You idiot!" Yukio berated, sounding like he was in tears. "You idiot! I'm supposed to be there _with_ you when bad things happen!"

Rin looked down at Yukio's shoulder, eyes wide. "Yu…Yukio?"

Yukio squeezed Rin even tighter and sniffled. "You're not supposed to be in danger when I'm not 'round. You're always helping me – why can't I help you, too?"

Fujimoto looked at them and smiled a little before something struck him. "Rin, you said you'd been working on this for weeks…how did you work on it?"

Yukio let go of his brother slowly and cautiously before sitting back down next to Fujimoto, wiping tears out of his eyes and sniffling every so often.

Rin shuffled his feet and laughed nervously. "Um…I kept tryin' and it worked once for a little so I went down here that Sunday and made it last longer…"

Father Fujimoto did not have a good feeling about this.

"An' after that, that day I went back to school, I did it again 'cause I wanted to show you guys sooner and I needed to practice. An' after that I kept doin' it under the covers, but stopped 'cause I…I kinda heard Daddy sayin' something 'bout the hospital if I didn't get better soon…"

The twin's father sighed and pushed his glasses up to rub where they pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rin, I'm going to say this. It's dangerous to push yourself so far as to be that exhausted. You might have actually gotten sick—you were making your body unable to fight off infection and weakening it too much."

Rin's nervous smile dropped and he looked down at the floor.

"I'm not saying you can't practice any more," Fujimoto said as he leaned forward, putting his hands on Rin's shoulders, "But I want to be there _every _time you do so. I'll get a room together and everything, but you _can't practice without me_."

Rin's grin, resurrected by the earlier words, faltered a little, but he nodded.

"Also, Rin, you cannot show anybody else those flames. Do you remember what those older kids did when they saw it?"

The six-year-old's head nodded. "Yeah. They ran away screamin'."

"Yes. Some people will be really scared of you when you do that. Others may get really mad and try to hurt you. Others," Fujimoto lowered his voice and stared at Rin seriously, "the weird-looking ones, will try to take you away somewhere."

"But…I don' wanna go nowhere!"

Yukio nodded furiously. "I don't want him to go anywhere else!"

Fujimoto smiled and gestured for Rin and Yukio to come closer to him. Once they did so, he hugged them both and ruffled their hair. "He's not going anywhere else, because I'm going to make sure he doesn't. But he has to not use the fire outside of the room I'm going to prepare for him. Okay, Rin?"

Rin nodded against his chest. "Promise."

Fujimoto's eyes softened. "I believe you."

"Can…can I be there when Rin practices?"

The priest hesitated, rational thought saying that the flames were too dangerous for another person to be in the room. He was an Exorcist—he had the ability to avoid those flames and douse them if need be.

But another part of him said that Yukio needed to be in the room—needed to be a part of this, needed to be included.

So he nodded at Yukio's falling face. "Yeah. But I need you to stay by me, okay?"

The younger twin's face brightened and he gave a wide, close-lipped smile. "Mm!"

"Pinky promises?" Rin offered, extending the said finger. Chuckling, Fujimoto accepted it a heartbeat after Yukio did.

Their fingers hooked.

"It's a promise."

* * *

><p>Use of Japanese will be as sparse as I can make it. After struggling through not using suffixes in the first draft of the chapter, I couldn't stand it any more and put the suffixes in. Why? They're an integral part of the culture. However, other than that, I'm going to keep all Japanese to the minimum-likely, the only things you'll see in the language are untranslated names, nouns, and suffixes. I will not be using things like <em>Kuso!<em> or _Matte kudasai!_. For the English reader not accustomed to the language, the suffixes are pain enough.

If anybody needs me to, I can explain the rudimentary knowledge I have of the suffixes.

Thank you for reading!


	2. Über Stärke

**A/N:** First off, I would like to give you all a HUGE thank-you! As of the time I uploaded Chapter Two, the story had recieved **24 reviews, 53 Favorites, 59 Story Alerts,** and a whopping **744 Hits**. This is like...wow, to me. In terms of reviews and hits, the only stories of mine that have recieved more are those that are multi-chaptered and have been up far longer. In terms of favorites and story alerts...this story tops all the others I've written.

So seriously-_thank you_. The attention this story has recieved is absolutely fantastic and I thank you for reading it!

I haven't started Chapter Three yet (I barely finished this in time, and stayed up to complete it) and am on vacation next week in Switzerland (plus school is starting, and I am incredibly nervous and scared about that), so there **may not be an update**. I'll do my best, but I'm looking at this through a realistic/pessimistic lens, so...

Again, huge thanks to **Oreramar**, who helped me polish this chapter and make it so that things made sense (such as: apparently, I was typing too fast and tried to make Rin boneless-you'll see at the end of the chapter).

**WARNING: This chapter is not entirely Anime-canonical in that I have given clergy members names because I'm sick of trying to keep them nameless. In other words, they are (in some ways) OCs. **I hope that they work out for you, though, because they're never getting a huge role and will be kept very much in the background. I feel like their presence would have some sort of impact in Rin's life, and tried to give them more than just a face.

Right below this are replies to anonymous reviews. If you are not one of these people, feel absolutely free to skip the text and begin with the chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

**To those who I could not reply to via PMs:**

**Deidarathebanana**: Thank you so much! The cuteness factor is definitely something that could not be skipped, and I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope you like this chapter just as much as the last, if not more so! This chapter is about 300 words longer than the first (and I even am moving a couple scenes to the next chapter), so I hope this satisfies.

**your new fan:** You make me blush and squee like a little girl. Seriously, thank you for those compliments. Massive destruction won't be coming for a while, I think-Fujimoto wants control right now, and Rin's flames aren't likely to be as strong as they are in the manga/anime, simply because Kurikara has not been drawn. I'm not sure when it will (or if it will), but if/when he does there's probably going to be a major power boost. And loss of control. I do agree that Rin is very, very soft towards manipulation in his youth-right now, however, I don't think that the eight princes of Hell (or even Satan) are even aware of him as more than a blimp on the very very outer edge of their thoughts. That, and Fujimoto, being the person Rin trusts the most (other than his brother), wouldn't stand for it-he'd correct any thoughts that a prince of Hell (or anybody else, for that matter) put into Rin's head. I did try to incorperate this thought in this chapter, though. Thank you for the review!

**Omy**:Gah, legit and worthwhile...I hope that the totally-made-up concept I put into this chapter about 'prime time' (you'll see) makes sense. I'm a bit worried it won't, even though it seems fine to me. I also hope that the characters have remained _in_ character for you. On another note, thank you so much for your review! It made me incredibly happy to read your thoughts on the story. I think that many other stories _are_ either too short, too shallow, or a little bit of both. A lot of thought has gone into this story, and I think that makes a huge difference. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

><p>Chapter Two: <em>Über Stärke <em>

(About Strength)

.

The front door opened and a nine-year old boy entered the monastery, tapping off his shoes as he called "I'm home," to the silent building.

One of the clergy poked his head around the corner, the curl on his forehead bouncing as he did so. "Oh, Rin-kun, you're back. How was school today?"

Rin shrugged and tilted his head away from the man slightly. "…It was fine."

"Ah," the man's eyebrows raised, though his squinted eyes never really opened, and he adopted a knowing, teasing look. "You got into a fight again today, didn't you?"

Flustered, Rin faced the man and pointed at him. "Hey hey hey, who said anything about fighting? I didn't fight, no sireeeee, I—"

"Try it again when I can't see the bruise on your face." The clergy laughed, and then went back around the corner.

"But I didn't hit back!" Rin half-whined, dropping his bag and quickly walking around the corner to catch up to the other man. "I was just making sure that Chiaki-teme and Noboru weren't able to pick on a kid a year younger than us! That's all!"

The rotund man turned and smiled at him, reaching a hand down to ruffle his hair. "And they only hit you once?"

"Teacher noticed by then," Rin grumbled, remembering how he'd just been about to hit Chiaki back when he'd noticed her striding towards them rather angrily. He didn't want his father being called about the misdemeanor, so…

"Oh, yeah, are Dad and Yukio still on their trip? I didn't see Yukio's shoes by the door."

Another one of the clergy stepped half out of the kitchen. "Ah—Rin-kun, nice to see you home. Fujimoto-sama just called; they'll be home tonight around seven-ish. He said to tell you that he wants you to go through all your kata thrice and the candle drill a few times. And to get your homework done."

Rin's mouth opened wide. "But I wanted to _cook_ for them! Jiborou-san, come _on_!"

Jiborou scratched his stubbled chin and smiled a tad too sadistically for Rin's comfort. "Well, you'd better get working then, no?"

The boy swiveled his wide-eyed gaze towards the other clergy member, who had turned around and was trying to dust despite his trembling form. "Kidomaru-san?"

"Rin-kun, are you really asking for help from me?" The round, brown-haired man chuckled and nearly knocked over one of the figures on the shelf. "Whoops. Well, you have until six, and then I'm starting dinner."

Rin tugged at his hair and hopped from foot to foot. "Aaaagh, this is so unfair!"

"We could have you do a few chores as well, you know," a lazy voice wafted out of the kitchen. "It'd help us out a lot."

Choking back a scream that still came out as a quiet, strangled growl, Rin stalked off to the hallway on the left an then chose the first door on the right, entering the 'training room' that had been put together by his father. It was heavily warded to keep unwanted beings from knowing that Rin was practicing with his flames.

Slamming the door shut, he threw his bag on the ground and roughly rooted out his writing supplies and the mathematics homework he had to complete. The next hour consisted of mutters and the furious scratch of the pencil. A couple times, there was a louder growl than usual and the boy reached up to run a frustrated hand through his already scraggly hair before continuing on.

Around four twenty, Rin looked over his homework, decided that Yukio could check it for him, then stuffed it all back in his backpack.

"What a pain," he groused as he shed his light jacket and changed into a pair of looser fitting pants. Carefully, he pulled a necklace from under his shirt, unclasping it gently and putting it down on the pile of clothing and schoolbag in the corner. He stared at the circular pendant for a moment.

"_Now, Rin, I want you to wear it all the time, except when we're in the room together." Fujimoto held up the necklace by the leather cord with one hand and gestured for Rin to come closer with his left._

"_Why?" Rin asked innocently as he moved towards his father, who was kneeling on the ground._

_Fujimoto undid the clasp and held an end of the cord in either hand before leaning over to place the necklace around Rin's neck. "It's to help you hide your flames. This upright triangle means fire—the big squiggly thing in the middle is for protection, and the thing underneath it also represents fire. The symbol on the left side is a seven-pointed star, and it keeps things from being seen. The one on the bottom is a bind rune made out of the European symbols for defense, protection, and constraint—that's like control. The one on the left is…"_

_Rin had tucked his head down to look at the flat, etched circle. "It's a cross!"_

_The Paladin chuckled, clipped the clasp shut, and ruffled Rin's hair. "That's right. And on the back," Fujimoto flipped the pendant over, "Are the kanji for 'seal', or __**fuuin**__."_

_"So…" the six-year-old scratched the back of his head and wrinkled his nose, "It's somethin' to protect me, right? From all those people who get scared and mad and want to take me away from home."_

_"That's right, Rin. That's right." _

Two years later, Dad had taken the necklace away over the weekend and then had given it back. He'd said that he'd lifted a small amount of the restrictions on the necklace—not much, but enough so that if he was in serious danger, Rin could manifest the flames to protect himself.

Shaking his head, he stripped his socks off and threw them haphazardly on top of the necklace before he padded over to the center of the room.

Rin took in a deep breath and then let it out before sliding into the position of his first hand-to-hand kata. Another deep breath, and then he began.

Forty-five minutes and three sets of four sloppy but technically completed katas later, Rin exited the room, panting and sweating, to get a drink of water. Kidomaru looked over at him in amusement when Rin glanced at the clock while taking a sip out of his glass. He managed to turn and spray the water into the sink, but his eyes were wide.

"Ten past five? _Ten past five_?" Rin let out a strangled cry before gulping down his water as fast as possible and then placing it on the counter. The moment the cup left his hand, he was racing back to the room, nearly colliding with the blonde clergy member as he did so.

Rin slammed the door shut and then nearly tore the closet door open, pulling out about twenty small candles two at a time. Four times counted as a few, he told himself. He'd do it a _few_ times, so he'd be following his father's instructions…

There was a reason that his father usually sat in on his training sessions, he admitted grudgingly to himself as he headed towards the wall where his stuff had been put.

After setting up the candles in a straight line about a hand's width apart, he backed up a few paces before sitting down, closing his eyes, and stretching his small hand out.

He waited for his father to tell him to start before he realized that Fujimoto wasn't in the room with him.

"Tch," he said as he concentrated, opening his eyes to make sure that he was getting the right candles.

The blue flames appeared, perfectly lighting the wick in the dead middle. However, the candles on the ends weren't so good.

On the right side, they had completely engulfed the far candle and had crawled up to the middle right one. The other side wasn't faring much better—the candle next to the perfectly lit wick was melting before his eyes and the far one, the one that he was _supposed_ to be lighting, had somehow managed to remain completely unmarked. Instead, the flames were licking at the floor right next to the candle and leading somewhere else.

He followed the line of fire and shot to his feet, waving his hands at it. "No no no no no not _theeeeeere_!"

The fire, miraculously, stopped centimeters from burning up all his school supplies and clothing. Grumbling, Rin concentrated and, after several moments, made the fire dissipate. He took a small breather before retrieving five new candles and placing them about six inches in front of the other candles. Then he went through the process again.

His three other tries had varying degrees of success. The second try was about the same as the first, excepting the fact that no flames tried to run away and destroy his personal belongings. The third try was the best—he'd managed to get two of the wicks lit nicely, but the one on the far right was completely engulfed in flames. The fourth try was abysmal—the middle one had a flame so high it was trying to scorch the ceiling and the others were completely awash in the stuff. It was also a little difficult to stop the fires from burning, given how distracted and impatient he felt.

Rin sat in front of the candles for a few moments, breathing more heavily than usual, sweat beading on his forehead. Then his closed eyes snapped open and he scrambled to his feet, snatching the amulet from where it lay in the corner before racing out of the room, barefoot and disheveled.

He burst into the kitchen, where brown-haired Kidomaru and blond Sagaru were looking over some recipe books. The moment he skidded to a stop by the counter closest to the door, they looked over at him.

"Oh, Rin-kun," Sagaru said after glancing at the clock. "You're done fast today. Are you su—"

"Get ouuuuuuuuuut!" Rin called loudly before grabbing Sagaru by the wrist and pulling him towards the door. "Get out get out get ouuut!"

Sagaru's spiked hair didn't even bounce as he took several heavy Rin-caused steps. "Oi, Rin-kun, that's kinda rude…"

Rin stopped and then turned and _glared_ at the other man. "Get out_, please_."

"Yeah, Sagaru-san, why don't we leave Rin-kun to his own thing?" Kidomaru said and smiled, gently pushing the slightly shorter man forward. "He seems to be on a mission here."

"But shouldn't he at _least _have somebody in here supervising?" Sagaru protested as he was pushed and pulled out of the kitchen by Kidomaru and Rin.

"_Get ouuuuuuuuuuuuuut_!"

"Hey, Rin-kun, just leave the rest to me. I'll tell everybody else that you've got the kitchen tonight," Kidomaru said with a smile creasing his chubby cheeks.

Rin nodded decisively and managed a small smile in return before stepping out of the way and letting the bigger clergy member gently push the other out of his way. After they passed, the boy padded into the kitchen.

Snagging an apron off the lowest hook by the kitchen door, Rin slipped it on and tied the strings behind his back while he looked at the clock. Five-fourty. He frowned a little at the time but quickly pulled out his special stool from underneath the sink and set it up by the refrigerator so that he could reach the top shelf more easily. Opening the fridge up, he peered into it questioningly.

"Eggs…a few mushrooms, onions, carrots, some lettuce and tomato…um…" Rin peered up at the top shelf. "We've got a bit of chicken left, but probably not enough for all of us…lots of pork though…"

Rin closed the fridge and then hopped off the stool, scooting it over to the other side of the kitchen where the giant jar of rice was. He climbed on top of the stool, then onto the counter, and opened the lid.

"We've got enough rice, so…do we have any mirin? I thought we were out of that, but Kidomaru-san did go to the store recently…" Rin muttered, then went off to find the aforementioned person.

After discovering that yes, there _was _a new bottle of mirin in the cupboard above the sink and chasing a couple other meddling adults out of the kitchen, the next hour was bliss for Rin. One of the few things that he was good at and enjoyed doing was cooking—even at his young age, he was on the way to being excellent at it.

Chopping onion, frying pork, steaming rice and then making the dessert—simple kushi, or sweet, dango—Rin felt his frustrated feelings dissipate and flow away until all that was left was relative good cheer.

He had just turned off the stove and taken the pot of mitarashi sauce off the burner when the door opened.

"We're hoooome!"

Rin stepped off his stool and, as he was getting the portable, electrically charged grill from where they stored the pots and pans, called back, "Welcome back!"

He'd just plugged it in when he heard steps approaching the kitchen. "Rin? Is that you in there? What, is everybody else making you slave away and cook for them?" The steps stopped at the doorway and Rin whirled around on his stool.

"Stay out!" Rin warned, brandishing a bamboo skewer at his father. "I'm cooking and you can't help."

Fujimoto's eyes blinked behind his tinted glasses. "Why not?"

"'Cause I don't want you to."

"Aaah, but it smells so good that I'm being dragged in here against my will." The Paladin acted as though he were being pulled in by something invisible, his arms out in front of him. "Can't…stop…"

Rin huffed frowning at his father before hopping off the stool and stalking towards the man. As soon as he got close enough, he started pushing the older man back as much as he could.

"Get _ouuuut_!"

"It's too strong…" Fujimoto moaned, leaning against Rin heavily. "I can't resist it, Rin, it's impossible…"

There was a world-weary sigh behind the father. "Daddy, please. Do you have to? He's just going to be madder if you don't stop."

Rin's eyes brightened. "Yukio!"

His brother's face appeared from behind Fujimoto's waist. "Hey, Rin," he said, looking a little scuffed up and tired. "Do you need some help?"

"Heck yeah!" Rin swore, straining to push harder. "Dad, you're—so—heavyyyy!"

In response, Fujimoto sagged even more. Rin's arms strained and he started to sweat a little.

"Nnnnnnnnnn!" he grunted, and tried to push the unyielding body upwards. For a moment, there was little progress, and then two small hands dug into the front of Shiro's coat from behind.

The two boys strained, pushing and pulling until they managed to get a slumping Fujimoto out of the kitchen.

"It's caaaaaalling to meee!" Fujimoto moaned, sluggishly reaching his right arm out to the disappearing room.

"Just…wait…a few…minutes!" Rin panted, and heaved one last time before abruptly ducking from under the man's larger frame and dashing to the kitchen. "Thanks, Yukio!"

"No problem," he heard Yukio say with a shrug in his voice before he cleared the door and shut it. As an afterthought, he locked it.

With a self-assured, smug look on his face, he made his way over to the grill, climbed on the stool, and then turned it on to a medium heat. He quickly retrieved his tray of carefully prepared dango, and then set it to the immediate left of the cooking device. He lifted one and then set it on the grill.

Ten sticks of grilled dango later, he placed them all on individual plates before opening the oven and pulling out the bowls of pork being kept warm. Once he'd placed the dango sticks in and turned the heat lower, he walked over to the door, unlocked it, and then retrieved the stack of bowls he'd set aside earlier.

As he put them on the table, he called out, "Oi, I need help!"

"Hah? What was that you said?" Sagaru's voice came wafting around the corner. "Get out of my kitchen? I don't want you in there?"

Rin scowled at thin air and set down the next bowl with a hard _thunk_. "Fine, then," he yelled, "I just won't feed you!"

"Hey, hey," a voice came from behind him, and the boy swiveled around with a start. "Let's not be hasty, Rin-kun."

Sagaru stood behind him, grinning widely even as Rin's scowl deepened and his fist clenched.

As Rin opened his mouth, the blond stepped back, still smirking and headed towards the kitchen. "What do you want me to bring out?"

"You set the table. I'll get the food," Rin said after a moment before following Sagaru into the kitchen.

The blond stopped before the counter that held the bowl of rice. "Is this a serve-it-yourself dinner?"

"Yeah." Rin looked up and then scowled again. There was no way he was letting this guy take _his_ job. "Go get the chopsticks."

"You sure?" the young man asked, casting a dubious look at the nine-year-old.

Rin nodded. "I'll take the rice."

"What?" Sagaru snapped his head around.

As Rin turned to retrieve his stepping stool, a hand grabbed his arm lightly. "Woah woah _woah_, you don't mean to tell me that you're taking that big bowl, right?"

"Of course I am," Rin turned to look at the man with what he hoped was an incredulous expression. "What, you don't think I can?"

"Of course not!" Sagaru burst out, looking at Rin's skinny arms. While Rin was stronger than most children his age, it still didn't change the fact that bowl was about eighteen inches in diameter and made of heavy ceramic. "Rin-kun, that's way too heavy for you!"

This was the wrong thing to say.

Rin's eyes narrowed, and he ducked under Sagaru's arm to climb on top of his step stool. Just because Yukio got to go on all those missions didn't mean that Rin wasn't as strong or as able. He could do the same! It was just that Dad said that the people he worked with might not like Rin. _I'm not weak! I'll show you, 'cause I'm _not _weak!_

He managed to latch his arms around the bowl before the blond man was able to stop him and strained to lift it. It rose a few centimeters above the counter.

"_Rin-kun_!"

"Whoa there!" A hand lightly landed on the boy's shoulder. "Don't you think that's a bit too heavy for you?"

Rin looked behind at the person. "No! I'm strong enough!"

Something like understanding flitted over the balding man's face. "Ah, I see. Well, then, would you allow this old grandpa to carry it? It would really help me. I haven't worked out so much in ages!" He scratched his goatee and lifted his thick eyebrows. "Well?"

The boy thought about it for a moment and looked up at the man in suspicion, eyes still narrowed. "You aren't saying this to make me feel better, right?"

"Of course not!" the man's torso shook as he chuckled. "Just give me this one bowl and I'll leave you alone afterwards, okay?"

Rin stared at the elder man for a moment more, and then shrugged a little. "Fine." He let the bowl down and then stepped off the stool, and got out of the way. "But Sagaru-baka is still taking the chopsticks out."

"Oi! I'm not an idiot! And that's no way to respect your elders!" Sagaru exclaimed, childishly pointing a finger at the boy as the eldest in the room exited, a smile on his face.

"How childish, Sagaru-_kun_," the man said. "You're being completely pulled around by Rin-kun, you know."

Sagaru stared at the man's retreating back with a gaping mouth. "Yo-Yoshirou-san!"

"_Iiiiiiii-diot_." Rin snickered and stuck out his tongue at the blond and pulled his stool over to one of the two bowls of pork and onion. "I'll get the meat."

He could hear Sagaru take a deep breath and let it out before speaking. "Fine. But I'll get the glasses afterwards, got it?"

Rin didn't get a word in edgewise before Sagaru opened the drawer and picked out the chopsticks.

"Okay, _idiot_."

The boy turned around, bowl in hand, to see Sagaru facing away from him, body tense for just a moment. Rin blinked as the young man suddenly relaxed before turning around with a horribly kind smile on his face.

"Hey, Rin-_chan_, don't you think you're acting rather immature? Adults aren't mean to each other like that."

Rin opened his mouth to argue with Sagaru, but nothing came out as he continued to open and close his mouth as the blond sauntered out of the kitchen, whistling all the while.

The boy stood there for a few moments, before finally bursting out, "_Don't_ call me _Rin-chan_, dammit!"

With a stormy expression on his face, Rin marched out to the table and set the bowl down on the closest end. His ire held firm as he observed Sagaru switch tracks and start humming light-heartedly as he carefully set down the chopsticks.

Snorting in disgust, Rin turned and returned to the kitchen, missing the smirk that momentarily passed over Sagaru's features.

"Fujimoto-san?"

The paladin looked up from where he was filling out paperwork at his desk. "Oh, Yoshirou-san. Is something wrong?"

The balding Asian man's usually cheerful eyes were more serious than usual. "It's about Rin-kun."

"Explain." Fujimoto gestured to the chair in front of him and set down his pen gently, a little worried. Rin hadn't seemed any different than usual when he'd come in—in fact, he acted just as he thought he would.

Yoshirou took a seat and promptly spoke. "I believe that Rin-kun is feeling…as though people think he's weak."

Fujimoto Shiro's brow furrowed in confusion. "Rin's a very strong boy—I've told him so several times and have warned him to not use that strength against others. To possess the strength he has is abnormal for a nine-year-old." A thought occurred to him suddenly, and he frowned. "What? Has he gotten into another fight?"

"Nah, Rin-kun's a good kid." The elder man said, eyes crinkling into crescents and a hand reaching up to smooth back the hair he had left on his head. "We haven't gotten any calls from the school since about two months ago, and he hasn't hit back if somebody has hit him. No, it's how he was behaving just a little bit ago. You heard him call for help, right?"

Fujimoto nodded and gestured for the other man to continue.

"Sagaru-kun came in to help. Long story short, Rin-kun attempted to carry the rice bowl out to the table. You know, the big one. Sagaru-kun expressed his doubt that Rin-kun could handle it, and the boy got visibly frustrated. When I stopped him and asked him if he thought it was too heavy, he told me that 'he was strong'."

Understanding flitted over the Paladin's face, and he rested his forehead in his hand. "I assume you took care of the situation?"

Yoshirou chuckled. "Yes, but he's getting smarter. He actually asked me if I was only asking him to let me carry the bowl to make him feel better."

A shriek of rage echoed through the cracked door, causing the two men to leap half to attention.

"_You get the glasses, you idiot, the glasses! That's not the glasses, that's the _meat!_**I**__ was getting the meat, dimwit!_"

Fujimoto snickered a little. "Sagaru-kun pushing it a bit too far again, no?"

"Honestly," Yoshirou sighed, "I keep wondering what to do with that boy. At one moment, it seems like my words have gotten through to him, and at the next he's back to being immature. He enjoys baiting Rin-kun too much."

"About Rin…" Fujimoto sat back down. "What do you suggest I do?"

The balding man followed suit. "Well…" he began, "For one, you should probably start taking him with you on little exorcising hunts."

"What?" The Paladin asked, looking at the other man as though he had sprouted horns and was drooling. "That's…I can't do that! I can't take Rin on missions with me—the Vatican wouldn't stand for it, and they would most certainly find out about Rin in no matter of time at all!"

"They don't have to be official," Yoshirou pointed out, leaning forward a little. "And isn't it better to let the kid have a little bit of practical training? Rin-kun is, after all, more of a hands-on learner than a book-worm."

Shiro snorted in agreement. The first time he'd introduced basic books on a simple topic—kinds of low-level demons, what they looked like, and their weak spots—he'd returned about thirty minutes later to find Rin with one of Yukio's Square Jump magazines. Every time afterwards, even when Fujimoto remained in the training room with Rin, he only absorbed a small amount of the information. On the other hand, teaching Rin through physical means, such as the katas, was much more fruitful. The kid definitely didn't enjoy doing them, but he picked them up fairly quickly.

Yoshirou's eyebrows were raised and he looked at Fujimoto knowingly. "See?"

"I did see that low-level goblin nest on the way back…" Fujimoto mused without really hearing the older man's remark.

There was silence in the room before Fujimoto spoke aloud again.

"While we're on the topic of Rin, Yoshirou-san," he asked softly, "what do you think of getting Rin sword-fighting lessons?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Yoshirou said after a moment, "but I understand why you would want him to."

"Yeah." Fujimoto nodded, staring at the paper before him quietly.

They were both silent for a long, long moment, before Yoshirou stood up slowly. "I'll leave you to think about it."

The man left the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him..

Fujimoto Shirou nodded once more, brow creased as he pondered the wisdom of teaching Rin how to handle a sword.

He did not want to seem as though he was inviting Rin to draw the Kurikara when the time came to pass the sword on to the child. However, if the situation was dire enough that Rin would _have_ to draw it, Fujimoto did not like the idea that Rin would be unable to properly wield it.

_He doesn't have to use Kurikara_, his thoughts whispered, _he can use a different sword. Yukio's learning to handle a gun, is he not? Why don't you let Rin how to use the blade?_

Fujimoto most certainly did not want Rin to feel as though he was being put to the side in favor of his younger, smarter brother. According to Yoshirou, however, it seemed as though these feelings were already creeping up on the nine-year-old.

Enthusiastic knocking interrupted his train of thought, and he looked up and sat back in his chair. "Yes?"

"_Daaaaaaad, it's dinner time!_" Rin's voice came through the door even as the doorknob was jiggled. "_C'mon!_"

The Paladin smiled and stood up, the chair scraping the floor as he pushed it back with one hand. "I'm coming, Rin."

"Hurry up then!" Rin moaned as he opened the door and tapped his foot impatiently. "I'm hungry, and you're being slow!"

"All right, all right," Fujimoto chuckled and maneuvered his way around the furniture. "Go out to the table—I'll meet you there."

Rin hesitated for only a moment before nodding and retreating from the room. "If you don't hurry, I'll eat your dinner!" he yelled, the sound growing fainter as he turned the corner and walked towards the dining room.

Smiling, Fujimoto followed his child and when he entered the dining room, Rin was already in his chair and fidgeting. Sagaru and Kidomaru were engaged in conversation with each other, while Yoshirou was prodding Yukio about how school was going. The Paladin grinned and moved over to his seat before taking it.

On an unspoken cue, all members at the table folded their hands together and bowed their heads a moment before Fujimoto began to speak.

"Oh Lord, we thank you for the meal in front of us. We thank you for our collective well-being and for keeping all safe throughout the course of the day. We thank you for bringing us all together at this time and your generosity in ensuring our spirits and bodies are well. In the Lord's name, Amen."

The last word was echoed quietly around the table before the clink of silverware on glass was heard and the voices rose.

"So, how did the mission go?" Hideki, the third son of a traditionalist Japanese family, asked from his position at the end corner of the table.

Fujimoto smiled and caught Yukio's eyes purposefully. The younger twin sat up straight in his chair and passed his bowl to Yoshirou so it could be filled with rice.

"It was a success. Our team was able to exterminate the Leaper that had been causing havoc in the Nagano area. It was relatively simple, but the civilians who had been able to see it panicked and excited it."

"Aah, Yukio, but who brought it down in the end, huh?" Fujimoto prodded, grinning as Yukio blushed a little. It was typical Yukio—he tended to downplay his part in the action.

"…I may have gotten it to calm down when Agato-san refused to…"

At his brother's embarrassed admition, Rin sat up in his chair and leaned over to his brother, admiration shining in his eyes. "Wow! _You_ got that demon? That's awesome!"

Yukio's cheeks flushed a brighter red and he looked to the side. "It really wasn't much…Father was right behind me and was helping…"

"But that's _so cool_! That's something I haven't done yet, but don't worry—I'll catch up to you!"

One didn't have to look closely to see the small smile on Yukio's face. "I don't doubt it."

Sagaru whistled softly and nudged his best friend. "Isn't that awesome, Hideki? How old were you when you did that?"

"About sixteen. Congrats, Yukio-kun!"

The table was soon filled with sounds of praise and congratulations, and next to Yukio's rapidly reddening face, Fujimoto could see a flash of longing cross Rin's face. It lasted only a moment—Fujimoto blinked, and the joy in Rin's eyes was just as genuine, if not more so.

The Paladin was very proud of Rin for this quality—the ability to not hold any grudge against his twin brother for his accomplishments. However, Rin was only human, if only in upbringing, and there was no guarantee that this behavior would continue if the problem was not addressed.

The conversation and congratulations died down to just grins and winks as they all began to finish putting together their dinner.

"Hey, Rin," Fujimoto started casually, heaping the pork and green onion onto the bed of rice in his bowl, "On the way back, we noticed a place that might have nesting Hobgoblins. It's situated relatively close to a butcher's shop, so I volunteered to take care of it—do you want to go with me on Saturday to take care of it?"

Rin's chopsticks dropped and his face lightened up so much Fujimoto could have sworn the boy was glowing. "R-Really?"

Yukio turned his head away from his brother slightly with a grin threatening to erupt on his face.

"You're not joking or anything, right? I can really really go with you?"

"Provided you get all your homework done on Friday night, then yes, you may." Fujimoto smiled a bit and struggled to keep it from growing.

Rin was silent for only a moment more before he pumped a fist in the air and cried, "_YEEEES!_"

Hideki and Yoshirou flinched away at the loud noises, Yoshirou moreso because he was closer to Rin. All Yukio did was wince before smiling at his brother.

"I'll help you with your homework tomorrow if you'd like, Rin."

The boy looked at his twin as though he were God's gift to Earth before he enveloped Yukio in a tight hug. "Yukio, you're the _best_ younger brother _ever_!"

Fujimoto grinned so widely it hurt his jaw, and exchanged a glance with Yoshirou, who winked and smiled in return.

"That's cool, Rin-kun!" Yasu, who was sitting on Yoshirou's left, smiled at the nine-year-old. "We've got a couple of prodigy Exorcists on our hands, don't we?"

Sagaru snickered at the brunette's comment, holding up a pile of rice with his chopsticks. "Prodigy? Maybe Yukio-kun, but Rin-kun's not got the brains to be a prodigy."

Rin's good mood disappeared as he turned to glare at Sagaru, mouth half-full. "Hey, haystack, I do too have brains!"

"No you don't! And before you blow up at me, I was going to add that you might be 'exceptional' instead. Now I just won't." This was punctuated by shoving the rice in his mouth.

Kidomaru interrupted the argument by addressing Rin. "Hey, Rin-kun, how did you season the pork? It tastes a little different…"

As Rin launched into how he created the dinner, taking a pause every now and again to shovel food into his mouth, Fujimoto simply ate and listened to the others talk. He had to stifle a laugh at the conversation on his end of the table; Jiborou and Yasu were poking fun at Kidomaru's tendency to, when cleaning, knock down anything not nailed into something else.

A few minutes later, Fujimoto noticed Sagaru and Hideki badgering a now-flustered and irritated Rin. Fujimoto turned his attention to the conversation, curious as to what the problem was.

"…was out early, wasn't he?"  
>"Yeah, Rin-kun, did you really get everything done in only three hours, including your homework?"<br>"Yes I did! I'll go get it if you really need proof!"  
>"What's wrong?" Fujimoto interrupted, frowning slightly.<br>"Rin-kun was in the kitchen a little before six," Kidomaru explained, "and he came home around three-fifteen. Some find that incredibly odd."  
>"Some?" Jiborou said with a raised eyebrow. "I think we all find that at least a little weird."<br>Rin fidgeted in his chair.  
>Fujimoto's eyebrows raised and he stared at Rin across the table. "Rin, did you do everything as I told you to?"<br>The boy's cheeks puffed up in incredulity. Yukio looked like he wanted to laugh at his brother's face. "Of course I did! I did my homework and my katas and my flame exercises, so there!"  
>"Okay," Fujimoto agreed amiably, "But I want to see that homework after dinner, all right?"<br>Rin paused, but nodded, a stubborn glint in his eyes. Fujimoto continued.  
>"And how many katas did you do?"<br>"I ran through them three times! Geez, Dad," Rin groused as he picked up his bowl and tried to scrape the leftover rice together with his chopsticks, "You'd think I'd totally skipped out on this to cook you guys dinner!"  
>"I don't think you skipped out on it," Fujimoto said lightly, ignoring Jiborou's twitching mouth and Sagaru's shaking shoulders. "I'm just not sure you did it all completely. Or properly. How many times did you go through the flame exercise?"<br>The scraping paused a moment"…a few."  
>And here's the warning sign, the Paladin thought in the silence. "How many times is a few?"<br>Rin muttered something and looked at his bowl intently.  
>Fujimoto's voice grew just a tad harder. "Hmm, Rin? I didn't hear that, I'm sorry."<br>"He said four," Yukio said, causing his brother to send the younger twin a look of betrayal.  
>The Paladin sighed, but said pointedly, "Yukio, I was talking to your brother, not you. While it's nice to see you speak up for him, he and I are having this conversation."<br>Yukio looked down and said a quiet, "I'm sorry."

Rin gave one spasmic twitch and Fujimoto could see the hand holding the chopsticks tighten around the utensils.

The silence was smothering, and Fujimoto knew that this couldn't go on any longer. "Rin, I'd thought you'd be responsible enough to be thorough, but apparently my arrival home was too soon. I'm sorry—the meal _was_ delicious, though." His tone lightened up near the end.

Rin's fist unclenched a little and one eye peered at him through the boy's bangs.

"Now, wasn't there some dessert planned? We'd better finish quickly, no? We can't miss out on _dessert, _can we? After all, it's not often everybody's here all together like this."

As murmurs of agreement echoed around the table, Fujimoto felt accomplishment bloom in his chest as he saw Rin's mouth quirk upwards for a brief moment.

"So, what's for dessert, Rin-kun?" Yoshirou asked kindly.

Rin's face split into a small grin. "Kushi dango!"

The next day and a half passed by quickly, and although Rin was a little unhappy with his father for making him clean up the mess of melted candle that he'd left in his haste to make dinner, nothing could dampen his spirits for Saturday evening.

His homework was done and was better than usual as a result of his brother kindly helping him out. The clergy members were absolutely amazed that, come Friday night, his schoolwork was done and corrected by eight o'clock at night.

When Rin had asked Fujimoto about training that night, the man had just smiled at him and told him, "_Remember this, Rin. You cannot stress your body out right before a mission—it needs time to rest, okay? Never push yourself too far._"

This was why, despite his desperate need to work off some energy by doing _something_ (but not chores, never chores—he wasn't stupid enough to ask for them), he was laying on his bed trying to read manga. 'Laying' was a loose term to use—every few seconds, Rin would shift to his side or onto his back or sit up on the mattress.

Even _Shounen Jump's_ action-packed, hilariously funny and drama-filled chapters failed to hold his attention. The long-time, faithful fallback of _Monthly Jump_ failed him as much as the other magazine, and he wasn't going to touch those weird girly manga even if he was forced to read _actual literature _instead.

As Rin turned the page, his entire body shuddered. Books like those ear-achingly boring texts his father had tried to make him read…

Annoyed, he glanced at the clock and grumbled. It was only four-thirty, and the old man had said that they wouldn't go out until after five. Apparently, dinner could wait a couple extra hours so that they could make sure the demons were semi-aware but not too aware. It was bad to be out later.

_"Whatever you do," Fujimoto said to the eight-year-old boy, "DON'T engage a demon at night. The night is their kingdom—they can function during the day, but they are far more ruthless and dangerous when the sun is not out."_

Rin flopped down backwards onto his pillow and groaned, the _Jump _magazine falling from his fingers and dropping onto the bed beside him.

"Rin?"

The boy looked over at the door with eyes half-lidded in apathy. "Whazzup, Yukio?"

A small smile graced the younger twin's features. "You seem bored. Do you want to watch me practice?"

"…practice what?" The last time he'd agreed to watching Yukio 'practice' anything, he'd been subtly manipulated into _studying_ those demon books with him. _That _had been a nightmare, and he hadn't remembered much of anything from the material.

"Shooting," Yukio's hand came up to cover his mouth, but Rin could tell by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that he was smiling. Shaking shoulders indicated Yukio's suppressed laughter, and Rin scowled at his brother. "Don't worry, it's nothing that has to do with reading."

"I'll never forgive you for that," Rin muttered darkly even as he got up. "But it'd better be shooting, or else I swear I'll do something to Nana-chan."

Yukio's glasses flashed ominously when he turned to exit the room. "Take my bear and you die."

Rin's face widened into a grin. "Aw, is Spotty four-eyes afraid for his little stuffed animal?"

"It was a gift from Mom." Yukio said quietly, turning the corner and lifting the door to the basement, "Remember Father telling us how she picked them out before we were born?"

"…yeah." Rin's face dropped a little, but he perked up right away. "Hey, hey, so what kind of gun do you have? It's just a paint-ball one, right? Or is it the BB you got last Christmas?"

"The paint gun—it's easier to see where I'm hitting." Yukio replied as he pressed the switch at the top of the stairs for the light. They padded down the steps, Yukio's footfalls light and careful and Rin's with all the delicacy of an elephant.

"You looked so excited then!" Rin chirped and pulled a face. "All I got was the latest couple volumes of _One Piece_."

"And the _Math for Your Hopeless Third Grader_ book from Father," Yukio reminded, the smile returning to his face.

Rin started raging again, leaning against the banister and watching Yukio set up one of the targets. "_…Your Hopeless Third Grader_! I'm not a simpleton! That old…old _geezer_ just wanted to have a laugh!"

Yukio loaded the gun with the right amount of paintballs and took aim at the battered wooden target at the far end of the room. "It helped, didn't it?"

The elder's face flushed and he blustered, "T-That's only 'cause you helped me that year! It's not 'cause of that stupid book! I-I didn't even _read_ it!"

"No," Yukio giggled—ahem, _chuckled_, sighting down the barrel of the gun carefully, "Jiborou and Kidomaru forced you through it daily."

Rin's face reddened to purplish proportions as he soundlessly opened and closed his mouth. Right as Yukio pulled the trigger, he shrieked, "_How did you know!_"

Yukio jumped, the paintball going off course and landing in the outer rings of the target. He took a moment to glare behind him. "It was obvious."

The nine-year-old on the stairs shrank back a little. There were times he was afraid of Yukio, even _if_ he was a Spotty four-eyes. While those at school would have laughed at him for being afraid of geeky, quiet Yukio, Rin was Yukio's brother. He _saw_ all those scary moments, the ones where his brother became quiet and dangerous and threatening. He _knew_ that Yukio, despite the necessity of glasses, was an _awesome_ gunsman. And at this moment in time, _Yukio was armed_.

There was a good reason for why Rin shut up and watched Yukio for the next ten minutes.

While Yukio exchanged the empty cartridge for the full one, Rin was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey, Yukio, why don't you use two guns? It'd be so much cooler!"

"It's far more difficult to train with two guns than one," Yukio explained after a short pause, "And I am not quite good enough with one gun to start training for two."

"But if it's you," Rin said excitedly, "I'm sure you could get it!"

Yukio's gun twitched in his hand and he turned around, eyes a little wider than normal. "What do you mean?"

Rin gestured wildly as he spoke. "Well, aren't you, like, the youngest exorcist to ever graduate that cram school? I know you're only Esquire, but that's _awesome_! Nobody else has done it! So…why can't you use two weapons instead of one? So what if you're too young? You're an exorcist, aren't you?"

His eyes widened for a brief moment, but then contracted again and a smile tugged at his lips. "Thanks, Rin. I'll think about it."

Rin's grin was so wide Yuko could have sworn it would have ripped his lips apart. "Yeah!"

Half an hour later, after Fujimoto left with Rin with promises of a snack after the excursion, Yukio lowered his paint gun and looked at it carefully.

_Two guns, huh…_ he thought, and then smiled a little. _If Rin believes in me, I can take the chance._

_Besides, no matter how strong Rin gets, I have to protect him. I have to protect him from the demons who want to take him away._

His eyes hardened behind his round glasses and he raised the gun to fire one more time._ I have to protect him from the exorcists who can't see past Satan's flames._

Yukio's last paint-ball hit the target dead-center.

Rin had been absolutely enthralled with the train, and Fujimoto was hard-pressed to keep the boy in his range of sight. Somehow, they managed to get on the train and arrived in Nagano about thirty minutes later with no terrible incident.

Fujimoto couldn't help but feel as though something bad was going to happen during this trip.

The man looked at a mother and daughter walking across the street, the daughter holding her mother's hand with her left and a bag of groceries with her right. The girl was smiling. Rin followed his gaze and looked at the pair before turning bright eyes upon his father.

"Dad, where are we going? Where are the demons? Just you watch, I'll beat 'em all up and you won't have to lift a finger! No, you won't even have to _breathe_ on them, I'll smash 'em that fast!"

The Paladin softly laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. Rin stopped his excited motions and looked up at him.

"Dad…?"

"Listen, Rin. When you're out on a mission with me—or anybody else—you have _got_ to be quiet."

Rin's lips pursed, but he nodded determinedly.

"And you need to follow all of my instructions. Understand? _All_ of them."

With no hesitation, Rin nodded twice, looking far cuter than he should have with his lip jutted out and his eyes narrowed with childish resolve.

Fujimoto _knew_ Rin didn't understand all of what he'd said, but he'd spent too much time explaining to Rin. The 'prime time' for demon-hunting was incredibly short, and thus impractical for official mission assignment—there were simply too many missions to be carried off at the same time. Even though the moment of weakness was longer for low-level demons like hobgoblins, there was still only a small gate of opportunity—maybe only thirty minutes—and it was _pertinent_ that Fujimoto have Rin exorcise demons at this time.

Rin's level of control over his flames was too low—and Fujimoto understood perfectly that at his age, and with his temperament, this was close to being the best he could manage. As Rin grew older and matured, his control would become better. During the 'prime time', Rin could avoid using his flames and instead beat down the demons with his hand-to-hand abilities.

_He's a child_, a part of him rationalized, _he doesn't have the reach he needs_.

_Rin is stronger than a normal child_, he thought, and then shook his head. There wasn't the time for this.

"Come, Rin. We've got to hurry—the warehouse is a couple blocks away."

Fujimoto lengthened his strides, forcing Rin to walk quicker to keep up. Thankfully, the boy was silent—excessive noise would make the demons more aware and thus more powerful.

The sun had fallen further down, lengthening shadows and bathing everything in a golden-orange glow. By the time they had arrived on the edge of town, standing before a stereotypically broken-down and abandoned building, the sun had fallen to the horizon.

The months of declining sun made demon-exorcising during 'prime time' a lot more dangerous and impractical. However, with Rin, Fujimoto didn't have any other way to give his son real-time practice—there was _no chance_ he was going to sneak Rin into headquarters to give the boy use of the training equipment there. That was far riskier than anything else he could ever do.

"Stay close, Rin."

Rin fidgeted, but eventually nodded. They set off, slower and with more caution than before, a strange smell lingering in their noses and the graffiti on the worn walls of the warehouse causing the hair on their necks to stand up on end.

The inside of the warehouse was musty and dark—and the scent of rotting blood was in the air.

Fujimoto didn't even have time to curse before a dark blur sped towards him. Rin, ever enthusiastic and with the combined instincts of an exorcist and a demon, managed to put himself in front of his father right before the hobgoblin attacked.

The boy was barely able to sharply extend his right fist and knock the demon away. By that time, Fujimoto had already drawn one of his pistols and shot it as it collided with the floor, stirring up a few stray feathers.

Rin whirled around and beamed at his father. "Did you see that? Did you see that? I punched it!"

"Rin!" Fujimoto said sharply, picking off the hobgoblin about to pounce on the boy.

But his nine-year-old son had frozen, and was staring up at something beyond Fujimoto's shoulder. His eyes had widened in horror, and his lips were drawn back in a grimace of disgust.

Despite the danger, Fujimoto chanced a look behind him.

Pinned—no, _nailed_—over the door were bird carcasses. Pigeons, skylarks, swallows, wrens, Japanese robins…every common bird you could find in the area were fixed to the wall in a grotesque act of cruelty. Some looked like they had been pinned there after being shot. Others looked like they had struggled to free themselves before dying.

The blood left trails down the wall.

Rin made a choked sound in the back of his throat, and Fujimoto returned his attention to the boy. The nine-year-old had tears beading at the corners of his wide eyes, and his jaw was quivering.

Fujimoto was quick to notice the masses of hobgoblins around them.

"_Rise, oh Lord, confront and cast them down; rescue me from the wicked! Slay them with your sword!_" He raised a hand and then cut it sharply down—all the hobgoblins within a three-foot radius burst into dust that scattered and slowly disappeared.

Rin started at the sound of his father's voice, but the tears didn't vanish from his eyes, and when he spoke his voice was quavering. "Why…why are those birds like that?"

Sometimes, it was all too easy to forget that energetic, enthusiastic Rin was a young boy and could be traumatized.

"Because there is evil in the hearts of men." Fujimoto replied softly before raising his voice.

"_With your hand, Lord, slay them. Take them from the world in the prime! Their bellies are being filled with your friends!_"

The flow of hobgoblins could not be stopped for long, no matter how long Fujimoto quoted scripture.

"Why are they so _cruel_?" Rin cried, tears falling down his cheeks. "It's…it's _wrong!_"

Fujimoto could give no answer, as even his son's despair could not completely override the ring of a gun being shot over and over.

"_Why am I protecting them?_" Rin screamed, head bowed, a light flickering over his fingers. "_Why am I helping them?_"

Fujimoto Shiro's heart stopped for one horrible instance before he snapped back into action, knowing that _he had to explain __**now**_.

"_EVIL DWELLS WITHIN THIS HEART_," the man roared, "_OH LORD…LET EACH BE JUDGED ACCORDING TO HIS DEEDS._"

His last bullet fell to the floor as a massive number of goblins were wiped out of existence. It bought him time.

The Paladin knelt before his son, gripping both shoulders in his hands. "Rin! Rin, look at me!"

Rin raised his head just enough that he could look his father in the eyes. The boy's eyes were red around the edges, and the tears kept flowing.

"Rin, you protect others because if we don't get rid of this nest, _innocents may be hurt_. We are protecting the ones who did this because if we don't, these demons will become more and more angry and will take it out on those in the town! Do you remember that little girl? Do you remember her mother?"

The boy nodded tearfully.

"They could be hurt if we leave things as they are. There is both evil and good in the hearts of men—_remember that_. Some simply choose to follow the selfish, cruel parts of themselves rather than the kind parts. Do you understand?"

Rin nodded again, but burst out, "_Why_ do we have to protect those cruel people then?"  
>"Vengeance is a damning cycle," Fujimoto told Rin. "It sucks you deeper and deeper until you can't escape. By not protecting those people, you are exacting a little bit of vengeance. Eventually, you will take revenge more and more often, each time more extreme than the last until you have innocent blood on your hands."<p>

Shakily, Rin looked down at his hands before looking back up.

"Rin," Fujimoto said softly, "I know it stings to help them, but instead of thinking about that, think about those people you are protecting who _don't_ have anything to do with this. Think about the numerous innocents you are keeping safe versus the few who caused this mess."

The Paladin reached into a pocket and took out another round of ammunition before sliding it smoothly into the gun, one bullet at a time.

He'd almost slid the last bullet into its slot when a clawed hand reached out and grabbed Rin, startling the man and causing him to fumble with the bullet.

The boy screamed shrilly, but a well-placed kick and punch shook the Queen's grip, making it release Rin. Fujimoto aimed and shot, but the bullets did little to no damage. He cursed.

"Rin! Aim for the eyes or underbelly! They're the weakest spots a goblin or Hobgoblin has!"

Rin darted in and placed a sharp, strong kick into the Queen's gut, but a hobgoblin of that strength is made of sterner stuff than most low-level demons. It shrank back before lunging and then slamming Rin into the wall with a sweep of its clawed hand. The boy slumped against the wall and didn't immediately move.

Fujimoto's face became horribly, horribly calm as he raised his gun.

_BAM! BAM! BAM!_

The Queen jerked three times as one bullet hit it in the offending hand, the other borrowed into the chest, and the last buried itself right between the eyes.

It burst into dust, and the warehouse was quiet once more.

The Paladin ran over to Rin and carefully checked up on the boy. He ran a cautious hand over the back of the kid's head, took in how the limbs were splayed—thankfully, the boy didn't have any broken bones—and brushed Rin's bangs out of his face.

His hand brushed against a sticky spot, causing Rin to moan in pain. Gently, he probed around the damaged area and found it to be swelling already.

"…Dad?"

As Fujimoto gingerly pulled Rin into an embrace that spoke volumes of his panic and relief, he made a decision right then and there. He wouldn't keep Rin from going on trips with him, but…

Rin needed those sword lessons. Yukio had distance with his guns, so Rin was going to have some distance too.

He didn't want to have to see his son hurt in front of him again.

* * *

><p>And that's a wrap! Some scenes flowed, some scenes were sluggish to write, and some were a whir of WHACHA BAM OH YEAH thought-process. I did do my research, so if anybody finds mistakes in the chapter, please tell me!<p>

And again, _thank you so much_!

(updated 8.26.2011)


	3. Sensei und Deshi

**A/N:** This chapter has an alternate title.

That title is: **You'd Better be so Happy You Cry Rainbows.**

Because seriously, it was getting to be MAJOR CRUNCH TIME and I still had a lot more to write. Fortunately for me (and all of my lovely readers), some grades in my school took a class trip. On Monday, I had the first three periods free. Because I did not have my computer, I outlined the rest of the chapter.

Imagine my surprise that, the next day, I not only had the first three periods free but my only class was a 45 minute session of Sport. What does that mean? GET HOME EARLY. I'd also taken my computer with me to school, forseeing the free time I was bound to get, and I wrote. I wrote during those three periods (three fourty-five minute periods and one fifty minute break) and I wrote when I got home. May I say Mad Ninja Writing Session?

Because it was.

(coughs)

Other than that, I haven't started the next chapter and don't know where to start. My lovely sister, if you are indeed reading this we need to have a Major Brainstorming Session sometime this weekend. I do not have school Monday, so I could probably chat late into the night. On my end, that is.

Also, my stats are ridiculously high. Seriously, thank you so much. As I have told one reviewer already, the 'Legacy Stats' page of my fanfictions was my drive to write, and it made me giggle very, very often. Because I was that giddy I had so many reviews/hits/favs/alerts. To all of you that have done one or more of these things, thank you.

I've inserted a new character into this chapter and hope my characterisation is correct. I'm a little leery, but will do my best.

**your new fan: **_...My good lord, you make me so happy. And flattered. And and and...(blushes)_

_I hope you continue to enjoy the story as much as you have now. _

Explainations are below the chapter. Enjoy!

*EDIT 7-22-14: Fixed the title from Deishi to the correct form Deshi using this really cool tool that Fanfic now has called the...transfer button? Anyways, it eliminates the need for me to hunt things down.

* * *

><p>Chapter Three: <em>Sensei und Deshi<em>

(_Teacher_ and _Apprentice_)

.

_I'm really not _that_ hurt,_ Rin thought to himself grumpily as he laid sideways in bed, a bandage wrapping around his head and covering the gently throbbing bump of pain. _Really. I don't need bed-rest, I need to practice more!_

Last night, Fujimoto had refused to let Rin even _walk_, which Rin thought completely unnecessary as it caused everybody to worry too much. It didn't matter that Rin was so dizzy that everything he saw was hazy. It didn't matter that his father had pulled out the key to the church and used that instead of taking the train because he wanted to be home as fast as possible—even if it _was_ frowned upon to do so in such a public, normal place. It was only a bump on the head! It was _nothing_!

Rin scowled at the wall and clenched the hand holding the sheets. _I'm only hurt because I couldn't protect myself well enough. I'm only hurt because of _me_, because I didn't take my training seriously enough_.

Slacking so that he could make his father and brother a nice meal at the end of a hard day was excusable at the time. Last night, though, when he saw his father's anxious face as he checked for injuries and his brother's worried, teary expression, he realized that _this was no game_. This was serious, and he needed to be serious about his training in return.

Yukio rarely cried anymore. His father rarely looked anxious. Rin did _not_ want to be the thing causing those expressions. He wanted to be able to destroy whatever would make them.

The nine-year-old gritted his teeth in self-loathing and determination.

He would get stronger. He would protect his family, protect those happy faces and make the worry and fear and sadness only a memory.

Rin owed them all that much. And if it meant that he had less slack time…then it would be worth it in the end.

That's why, the moment he heard his father and brother leave the monastery via key to go to the Japanese Headquarters, he pulled the covers away and stood. He then fought through the sudden onslaught of black spots in his vision and slowly but surely made his way to the practice room as quietly as possible.

The first and only warning the clergy remaining in the church had of Rin's practicing was the locking of the door to his special room.

* * *

><p>"Woohoo! I won again! Take <em>that<em>, yer four-eyed overly-serious genius boy!"

Fujimoto grinned a little at the sight of his first student dancing around his adopted son, who was scowling up a storm.

"Yer owe me ramen tonight!"

The smile slipped off his face slightly as Yukio's irritated face didn't disappear when he stood. Instead, it only deepened and turned darker than ever.

"Hey, hey, why aren't yer sayin' anything, _scaredy-cat_?"

"Shut up," Yukio said darkly, eyes shadowed.

Shura jerked back a little, surprised, and Fujimoto stepped forward, his tone sharp. "Yukio!"

Shura's surprised expression changed as something flashed in her eyes and she suddenly turned sly. "Aaaaaah, have I already gotten under little scaredy-cat-_chan's_ skin?"

"I _said_," Yukio growled, glasses flashing as he brought his head up and aimed his pistol at the older girl, "_SHUT UP!_"

Before he could pull the trigger, Fujimoto had wrenched the BB gun from his son's grasp and stood between both students.

"Yukio," he said sternly, looking down at the suddenly surprised but still angry eyes of the nine-year-old, "you never, _ever_ point a gun at an ally. Do you understand me?"

Before the boy could give an answer, he turned to Shura, eyes sterner than usual and dark behind his tinted glasses.

"Shura, please don't needle Yukio today. Something happened at home."

She blinked a couple of times, but sighed and twirled her demon-slaying sword so that the flat edge lay on her shoulder. "Sure thing, Shiro."

Fujimoto looked at the sword as though he'd never seen it before, and after a long moment, looked back at Shura. His expression turned calculating.

The woman leaned forward and waved a hand in the Paladin's face. "Yo-hoo, Shiro, everything okay? Have yer finally lost your marbles?"

Yukio moved to see his father's face better, and followed the man's gaze to Shura's weapon. "Father, what…you _have_ known that the wo—_Kirigakure_-san has always fought with that sword, right?"

Fujimoto's eyebrows furrowed even as Shura twitched at the formality before he seemingly came to a conclusion and nodded slightly. "Hey, Yukio, why don't you practice another round? I need to talk to Shura about something."

The nine-year old looked at his father curiously as he accepted the BB gun. "Father? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Fujimoto said, smiling down at the boy and ruffling his hair. "Just have an offer to make."

Shura shifted her weight to the opposite hip. "Hey Shiro, what d'yer have planned? Am I in trouble or what?"

Fujimoto stepped around the woman and simply gestured for her to follow. He walked down a ways, shoulders hunched a little as he thought something through.

The twenty-year-old looked down at the boy next to her. "Did he drink this morning or something?"

Yukio glared up at the woman. "Of _course_ he didn't."

Shura looked at him doubtfully, and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"…but I don't know what he's doing, so don't ask me." The boy admitted, ducking his head a little, his voice dropping into a mutter.

"Oi, Shura! Leave Yukio alone and come talk with me!"

"Okay!" Shura called back before mashing her fist into Yukio's hair, giving him a noogie and knocking his glasses slightly askew. "See yer later, four-eyes!"

She dodged his initial punch and ran off, laughing and thumbing her nose at the boy before she caught up to the Paladin.

"So, Shiro, what's up?"

Fujimoto shook his head. "Somewhere a little more private. Maybe one of the classrooms?"

Shura stopped short before skipping ahead of Fujimoto, causing him to come to a sudden halt. She pressed up against her mentor and winked. "Oh, yer wanna play? What a naughty man!"

He fought back the blush rather valiantly, Fujimoto thought, and managed to pat the woman on the head in a fatherly manner. "I'm sorry, Shura, but that's not what I had in mind. You'll always be that little waif I found out in the middle of nowhere, right?"

"You're no fun," Shura pouted as she stepped out of Fujimoto's way, allowing him to turn the corner and go down the stairs. "So, what d'ya want me for?"

"I'd like you to do me a favor, that's all," he trailed a hand along an ancient banister as the steps changed from metal to old, creaking wood.

"Hah?" Shura said, steps lighter than his. "Usually, you're the one asking me _d'yer have enough food_ and _have yer beaten that prissy boy Angel up again_ and _is yer apartment okay, d'yer need to stay over at the church tonight_ and that kinda stuff. Yer don't ask me _can yer do me a favor_, it's always _can I do yer a favor_. So, what's the deal this time?"

Fujimoto stepped off the stairs and began to walk down the elaborately painted hallway that housed the classrooms for the cram-school students. "You know I've got another son, right? Not Yukio—his elder twin brother, Rin."

Shura twirled her demon sword a couple times. "Yeah, yer've talked 'bout him a couple times. Yer know, how he gets into trouble and tries to beat people up. Sounds like a real punk."

"He's not a punk," Fujimoto protested as he stopped right next to the next classroom. "Here, there shouldn't be anybody in here. We'll talk further inside."

"Whatever yer want," the woman sang as she followed Fujimoto into the room, closing the door behind her.

The classroom wasn't often used—just enough so that there was only a thin layer of grime on the desks—and had fallen into slight disarray. There were a few chairs in the back that were broken or fragile, and the shelves were stuffed with ancient papers and broken or outdated exorcising items; a splintered wooden crucifix, a Turkish evil eye with chipped paint, and there was a broken string of prayer beads hanging from a roll of paper that looked slightly modern.

"You don't have to sit if you don't want," Fujimoto said, "but I'm going to take this not-very-dirty armchair and use it."

A few pats of the cushion changed Fujimoto's mind as dust billowed off the furniture in dense clouds. He coughed awkwardly before leaning against the chair gingerly.

Shura grinned even as she moved away from the dispersing haze of dirt. "Wonderful choice, Shiro. I think I'm standin', 'kay?"

The Paladin coughed a few more times as he finally extracted himself from the dust, deciding against touching anything in the room. "Good with me."

They stood in silence for a short while before Shiro pulled out his wallet and opened it. He carefully took out a photo and passed it over to his student.

Fujimoto stood in the middle of the picture, grinning that ridiculously huge grin of his and ruffling the hair of the boys standing in front of him. Yukio, on the left, was easily recognized in his nice polo shirt and casual slacks, but the other boy was one she didn't know. His head was tilted up at his father as he scowled, one hand up and gripping Fujimoto's hand and the other loosely clutching a schoolbag. He was dressed in a rumpled T-shirt a size too big and jeans that were stained with dirt and grass. His sneakers looked well-worn and the laces a little frayed. There was a nasty looking bruise on the upraised arm and there were bandages covering the knuckles on both hands.

"That's Rin, huh? Looks like a punk to me. He's got the expression 'n everything."

Fujimoto sighed and reached out to take the picture back. "He's not a punk—in fact, he rarely hits back."

"So he's a wimp."

"Nah, he's the wall of justice. You know, the thing that stands between the innocent and the evil—it's just that he keeps getting in trouble if he hits back, because he's a very strong boy."

The boy in the picture caught her eye at that point, and she peered at him closer. Fujimoto's hand halted, and then fell back down to his side as Shura examined the photo once more. Something about the eyes and the hair disturbed her, and there was also what looked like a cord hanging around his neck.

"The kid," she murmured, "What's he like?"

"…he's a very strong-willed boy," Fujimoto started, "and probably as adamant about protecting Yukio from others as Yukio is about him. He doesn't like to see innocents suffering and has trouble restraining himself from lashing out at those who have done wrong. He's a kind boy, Rin."

"And why is he involved in this? He doesn't even know about the world of exorcists, does he?"

Fujimoto's nervous chuckle said everything.

Shura's palm hit her face and she let out a sigh. "Why? I understand Yukio, as he can see the damn demons, but why the brother? If he's involved, shouldn't he be learning how to be an exorcist?"

"That's the problem," Fujimoto said. "Shura, can you promise me to keep quiet about all of this?"

She looked at him with eyes narrowed. "How serious is this secret?"

"Very."

Fujimoto's eyes didn't lie. Shura searched for the joking twinkle, but didn't find it. She looked for the upwards curve at the corners of his mouth, but they weren't present.

Everything about the man screamed exactly _how _serious this all was.

"I'll keep it," she swore, keeping in mind that this was the man who saved her, that this was the man she trusted the most. More than all the Vatican, more than anybody else in the _world_. Whatever this secret was, she trusted that Fujimoto had good reason for keeping it.

The man searched her eyes, gaze intense. "I'll trust you," he said softly.

Shura leaned against the teacher's desk, picture loosely held in one hand as she returned her sword to the seal on her chest.

There was a brief pause before Fujimoto began. "Rin is a very special boy—how special is what I'm going to tell you very soon. I've raised him since he was moments old and have taught him to control and protect himself since he was six—a year before Yukio. However, Rin _cannot_ be known to the Vatican."

The woman looked at Fujimoto incredulously. "What? The only reason for that would be because he's something taboo, something so taboo he would have to be—"something dropped in her stomach. "Yer—You are not telling me this."

Her using 'you' instead of her customary 'yer' was a testament to how serious she was being, and Shura could tell by the look in Fujimoto's eyes that he both acknowledged and appreciated it.

"I am." Fujimoto stared directly into her eyes, and she saw no regret. "Rin is the son of the god of demons."

Her mouth opened slightly, and she whispered the name in shock. "Satan…" She looked back at the picture, at the blue sheen in the hair and the fire-blue eyes and the scowl on his face.

Fujimoto nodded. "Yes."

"Then…isn't Yukio his son too?"

"Yukio was weak in the womb," the Paladin explained, "and so the demonic powers didn't transfer to him. Rin, being so much stronger, inherited them all."

"Then why does he know about this world?" Shura exclaimed, mind racing at the horrible possibilities. "Why hasn't he been kept in the dark, if not outright… You know what happened nine years ago!"

"Three years ago, about ten years too early," Fujimoto said, "Rin manifested the flames. He was placed in a life-threatening situation and they woke."

_I've … taught him to control and protect himself since he was six…_

"You sealed them, didn't you?" Shura said with quiet certainty. "You sealed his powers, his demonic appearance. That's why he looks so normal. That's why he looks _human_."

"He _is _human," Fujimoto rebuked. "He is so human that some human beings look like demons."

"And the thing around his neck?"

Fujimoto looked surprised for only a moment. "It's a pendant carved with runes for protection and to conceal his flames—in other words, it acts as a stopper. It makes sure that when Rin is very, very emotional, the flames are either unnoticeable or not there at all."

It was quiet for a moment while Shura digested all of the information. "What did you seal his powers in?" she asked softly. "It can't have been that necklace—it would have to be something stronger, something more ancient."

"Kurikara."

Her mouth dropped open. "_Kurikara_? You stole a sword—a demon-slaying sword—from those traditionalist monks?"

"It was strong," Fujimoto explained, "and was used to housing demonic flames. It was the best choice."

Everything was suddenly clear to Shura. "And you called me in here because you want me to teach him how to use it, don't you?"

Fujimoto nodded.

"You're going to throw him at me because he's a demon child?" Shura's voice raised and she had to keep herself from crumpling the picture she had been given. "You're going to trust me with the development of such a dangerous kid? I can't do that, Shiro, and you know that! I was _raised_ by demons! I don't know how to make a kid grow up right—my own childhood was screwed up!"

"Shura!" Fujimoto said sternly, "Hear me out. I am _not_ throwing him at you. He will remain at the church with me and I will spend time with him. He needs to learn how to use a weapon, though!"

"Why not a gun?" Shura argued hotly. "Why not his fists, why not have him become an Aria?"

"Rin is not made for a gun. He does not have the calm, nor the calculating mind that Yukio has. Rin is also most certainly _not_ Aria material—I tried to have him memorize a couple easy, all-purpose verses. An hour later, he wasn't any closer to knowing them than he was when he started. And his fists…" Fujimoto trailed off.

"Yes?" The photo crinkled a little in Shura's grasp, her control slipping for one small moment.

"I took him out last night," Fujimoto admitted, "to Nagano. There was a goblin nest in an abandoned warehouse about two blocks south of the train station, and the city does have a butchery relatively close by. I didn't want anything to go wrong, so I planned to take care of it, and Rin needed to have a practical mission. Yukio's already been on several, so I felt it more than about time."

"You took the son of Satan out into public and let him loose on some hobgoblins," Shura said dryly. "I'm sure it all went well. I'm assuming he used hand to hand and the flames, right? Oh, really smart, Shiro."

"He didn't use his flames!" Fujimoto snapped. "He had the pendant on the entire time. And yes, he did use hand to hand, and I took him during 'prime time'. There shouldn't have been any problems, but I hadn't counted on the local gangs causing trouble, if only indirectly."

Shura's eyebrows raised.

"They…they had the carcasses of birds nailed over the doorway," Fujimoto said softly. "Rin saw it first, after punching the first goblin far enough away that I had time to draw my weapon and destroy it. Rin doesn't like seeing the suffering of innocents, I've told you that. And with some of the birds, it was very clear they'd been nailed to the wood while still alive. You know how goblins are about rotting blood."

"Did he go berserk?"

"No," Fujimoto said. "No he didn't. But he was absolutely upset—he was crying and wondering why he should be protecting people who did those sorts of things. It got bad enough that the flame started to manifest itself. I was lucky—I was able to clear out most of the demons quickly and set him straight. Once he'd calmed down enough, though, the Queen came out. Rin is a child—he did very well for having no prior real-time experience, but he did not have enough reach. He was hurt, Shura. He didn't break any bones, but his head slammed against the wall and he's got a bit of a concussion."

Fujimoto was quiet for a moment more, his eyes shadowed.

"Shura, I don't want Rin to be in such danger again, but I know it's going to come. I know that he's going to be hunted by both demon and human, and so I want to ensure his safety the best way I can. He needs more reach—he needs to be able to protect himself, with not only his body, but with a _weapon_. You know me—I may know the basics of sword handling, but they are subpar and it is most certainly not my area of expertise. You may not be the best swordsman out there, but you are at least Mid-Meister level, even if you only became an exorcist recently. Also, I don't have the time to teach Rin full-time; I barely have enough time for the basics as it is. I've been getting more missions lately, and there's been talk of me teaching a class for the cram-school. I need _help_, Shura," Fujimoto looked at the woman.

Shura had never seen Fujimoto, strong, unwavering Fujimoto, look so lost and at his wits end. She hated this Fujimoto. She hated this imposter, this man who was unable to keep the world on his shoulders and look like it weighed nothing.

"Shura, please. I'm human, I need help. Can you—_will_ you help me?"

_I'm human_.

Somewhere, in all the trials Fujimoto had gone through and come out laughing, through all the problems he'd solved single-handedly, Shura had forgotten that Fujimoto was only human and wasn't all-powerful. She had forgotten that Fujimoto wasn't some sort of angel come down to earth from heaven, wasn't a _god_. He was human, she realized as she looked at him, his eyes silently pleading with her.

She argued with herself. The son of Satan was undoubtedly dangerous, but he was a boy. He was a demon, but he'd been raised by Fujimoto. He'd been taught to protect himself, but wasn't able to do it properly.

Shura sighed and looked at the picture again.

Inside that scowl, she saw something like acceptance and happiness. In those glowering eyes, there was joy. And, she reasoned, a boy who grew horribly upset by the sight of the tortured and did his best to make sure that they were not hurt couldn't possibly be too bad.

"I'll meet him."

Fujimoto grinned a little.

"But! I'm going to evaluate him. I'm not promising to take him on, I'm only seein' if he's worth my time."

The man's grin grew wider. "Mah, it's good enough for me! I'll even call out for the best ramen tonight, okay? You can stay for dinner! Sagaru-kun and Hideki-kun are gone on a mission for the next couple of days, and Jiborou is seeing family tonight. We've got room at the table!"

Without another word, he brushed by her, whistling all the way to the door with a spring in his step. He opened it and very nearly _skipped_ out of the room.

"Ah…" Shura's mouth opened and closed before she huffed and muttered, "I didn't agree to that, yer perverted old geezer…"

She looked down at the picture one last time and grinned a little before she pushed off the desk and literally skipped to the open door.

"Shiroooooo, yer forgot yer precious picture!"

Shura nearly ran into Fujimoto when she exited the room, and she stumbled to a stop with one hand on the doorknob behind her.

"Honestly, Shiro, why do yer have to be so—"

Fujimoto held up a hand, and it was only then that she saw him holding a cell phone up to his ear.

"…for fifty minutes? Why didn't you call me earlier?"

Shura looked at the man's face curiously, noting the mixture of worry, frustration and exasperation. His brow furrowed suddenly and his tone grew sharper.

"There's no more noise? Can't you break in?" Fujimoto listened for a moment before groaning and muttering, "_Of course the wards come back to bite me…_Yes, I have an extra key. Wait a bit, I'll be there in a few. I've got to get Yukio. See you in a bit."

The cell phone snapped shut and Shura immediately asked, "What's wrong?"

"Rin decided that he needed to practice even though I told him to _stay in bed_," Fujimoto said, "and he locked the practice room from the inside." He began to walk quickly up the stairway.

Shura hurried after him. "Yer said something about wards?"

"The room is where Rin can practice with his ability without anybody knowing. It's warded to the rafters and the room, if locked, cannot be broken into. My key is one of two—Rin has the other one. It's the only way to get into the room if locked."

"This kid is really not sounding too good. He's got no sense of where to stop," Shura pointed out.

Fujimoto gritted his teeth and ascended the last few steps. "He's never been good at that, unfortunately."

The Paladin strode purposefully around the corner and towards Yukio, who'd stood up from where he'd been sitting on a bench when he saw the man. "Father?"

"Rin's being stubborn," Fujimoto said shortly as he passed the boy. "We need to go home."

Yukio immediately followed his father, cutting in front of Shura. "Is Kirigakure-san coming with us? What has Rin done?"

Fujimoto halted before the entrance door and pulled out one of his keys. "Yes, she is. As for the second question, Rin has decided he needs to practice."

He then stuck the key in the lock and turned it before pressing down on the handle. A few steps later, they'd crossed into the church.

Shura whistled at how clean it looked. "Nice place, Shiro."

The Paladin ignored her, and pulled string with two keys on it from under his clothing. One she recognized as Kamikakushi key, but the other was unrecognizable.

"Fujimoto-san?" a voice called out from deeper in the house, and a balding man poked his head around the corner. "Thank God you're here. We've been talking to Rin, but there hasn't been a single sound. The door feels a little hot too."

Fujimoto cursed, and Shura grinned as Yukio blanched a little. "Alright. Why didn't you stop him?"

The man turned around and began walking in the direction he'd come from. "To be frank, Fujimoto-san," he said, "we didn't know he was up and about until he'd locked the door."

"I swear," Fujimoto muttered, "I need to tie him to the bed if I ever want him to get any good amount of rest."

Shura looked down at Yukio as they followed the first man. "This's happened before?"

"Father was pretty mad when he found out Rin had been practicing with his flames to the point of getting sick," Yukio explained as they turned right and saw the clergy members hovering in front of a door in the hallway. "That was when we were six—when Rin first found out he could control the fire. Rin told Father that the only reason he'd stopped was because there had been talk of taking Rin to the doctor, even the hospital."

Fujimoto barked out a command and the clergy made a path for him, pressing against the walls of the hallway to give him room. The Paladin raised the key and inserted it into the lock, turning it right. He raised his free hand and turned the doorknob left before pushing the door inwards.

The room was bathed with a flickering, soft blue light. In the center there was a ring of candles, and in the middle of them a figure sat, noticeably drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. There were several melted candles in the very corner of the room—nearly a mountain of them. The entire scene was softly reflected by the polished wooden floor, and Shura had to admit that it added a quiet atmosphere that dampened the feelings of instinctual horror and fear in her.

The ring of candles had every other wick lit—some of them were too high and were visibly melting the wax, others were barely lit, and some even didn't have a wick lit but the candle itself. But one or two had nicely-sized flames burning right where they needed to be.

Fujimoto stilled for just a moment beside the wooden door, but when he saw the slowly spreading red on the bandage around the boy's head, he acted.

He strode purposefully into the room with its paneled wood walls and high ceiling made of holly, the sound of his footsteps causing the boy's head snapped up at the sound of the steps. The flames were out of control for a few moments—a few long, long moments—before the boy's back stiffened and the fire slowly but surely started to disappear.

"Rin!"

The nine-year-old turned around bit by bit, shoulders hunched a little as he faced the wrath that was his father.

Shura knew the stance Fujimoto had fallen into—she had, herself, experienced it a few times in her youth. She did not blame Rin for being apprehensive.

"Rin, _what did I tell you to do_?" Fujimoto squatted before the sitting boy, a hand on each knee and tone saying that he meant _business_.

Rin muttered something incomprehensible.

"Speak up."

"…stay in bed."

"And why," Fujimoto said lowly, "_didn't_ you do that?"

The nine-year-old was quiet, gaze averted to the right so that he didn't have to look at his father's eyes.

At Shura's side, Yukio spoke up. "Rin…"

Rin looked at his brother, and Shura could _see_ the guilt that washed over the boy's face at the sight of his little brother's worried, troubled expression. She watched him look back at his father and saw the guilt deepen for a few seconds.

"Rin, _tell me_."

Suddenly that guilt was gone, replaced by stubborn determination. "I don't want to."

"Ooh," Shura muttered, "wrong answer."

Instead of blowing up at the boy like Shura expected, like he had when he had looked after her for those few short years, Fujimoto sighed before rocking back on his haunches and sitting. In another, much smoother motion, he'd drawn a surprised Rin into an embrace.

"You've got some fire on your shoulder," he said quietly, and brushed at it. Shura was all ready to shout at him and call him an idiot, but the fire didn't burn him. She even saw Rin's face turn sheepish before the flame disappeared. She closed her open mouth and stared at the pair contemplatively, one hand absentmindedly restraining Yukio from joining his father and brother on the floor. She felt the boy quiver underneath her palm on his shoulder and spared only a moment to pity him before turning her attention back to the middle of the room.

"Now, Rin," Fujimoto continued, his voice a little sterner than before as his hand raised up and apparently brushed against the bloody bandage, "will you tell me why?"

Rin looked down at the floor before glancing up at Yukio and then back down at the floor. Shura suddenly felt like she was intruding on something, but couldn't bring herself to leave.

"…'cause I'm not strong enough."

There was a sigh from one of the clergy members behind Shura, a sentiment that echoed in the tensing and untensing of Fujimoto's back. "Rin, don't think that. You can't push yourself like that—you're _hurt_."

"The only reason I'm hurt is because I couldn't stop it from happening!" Rin burst out, flames suddenly dancing through his hair and along his back. "I'm not strong enough! I _slacked_ off and didn't practice properly 'cause I wanted to make a meal for you, and it was fine then! But then…then you looked all worried and Yukio looked sad and everybody looked scared 'cause of me, and I don't want that to ever happen again! I don't want to make you feel those things ever again so why…" he trailed off, "why are you so _unhappy_ now?"

Shura felt her heart go out to the boy and cursed her inability to keep herself in check when it came to cute little boys with determined expressions and well-meaning intentions. Yukio didn't know how many times she had stopped herself from squeezing the breath out of him, and she meant to keep it that way.

"Because you're hurting yourself," Fujimoto said quietly, rubbing the boy's back and calming the fire into nothing, "because we're worried you'll push yourself too far and then make your injury worse."

Rin was quiet for a moment before he looked down at the floor and muttered something, blushing as he did so.

"Huh? What was that?"

Shura had to strain her ears to catch what the boy next said. "…but that's how Jump heroes always get stronger."

Fujimoto's back shook as he laughed a little before he hugged the boy tighter to him. "Rin, those are _fictional characters_. Life isn't a Jump manga, right?"

Rin nodded into the man's shoulder, looking absolutely vulnerable at that moment. If it weren't for the small flames in the boy's hair, Shura never would have taken him to be the son of Satan.

"I'm not saying don't work hard," Fujimoto said quietly, "but sometimes you need to rest to make sure your body recovers. Sometimes your body needs as much rest as it does training. Do you understand me, Rin?"

"…yeah." Rin's thin arms came around to hug Fujimoto tightly. "I got it."

There was silence for a moment before Rin raised his head and looked straight at Shura with a question in his eyes.

"Um…Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Why is there a woman in a bikini here? Is she…" Rin jerked back out of Fujimoto's embrace and wrinkled his nose at the man. "Eeeeeeeew, don't tell me you're going to go all smoochy with her! Ech!"

Shura turned her head to the side and started laughing, her frame shaking as she did so. Yukio looked at his brother like he'd gone mad.

"Rin!"

The woman sank down to the ground and held her aching gut as her laughter increased in intensity, eyes squeezed shut with tears leaking out of her eyes.

"Rin, no, I'm _not _going to 'go all smoochy' with Shura. She's my student, my _first_ student. She's about twenty years younger than me—_no_."

"But then why is she only wearing a bikini?"

"Oh my gooood," Shura wheezed out, squinting an eye open and looking at the pair looking at her—Fujimoto had turned around while her eyes were closed. "Oh god Fujimoto, yer never told me he was this funny."

Fujimoto raised his eyebrows at her, and then chuckled a little. "Yeah, he's a barrel of laughs. Sorry I forgot to tell you."

"Soooooo, Dad, why's she here?" Rin attempted to stand but immediately swayed to the right and stumbled, a hand coming up to hold his head. Yukio crossed the distance quickly and supported his brother before his father could do more than latch onto Rin's left hand.

"This is why you don't push yourself after an injury," Yukio scolded before putting Rin's right arm around his shoulders. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Rin's mouth grimaced in pain as his eyes squeezed shut. "Dad…answer…"

"Oh! That's right!" Fujimoto let go of Rin's hand and laughed. "If she agrees, that's going to be your Kendo instructor! She came over to evaluate you. And for ramen."

Yukio's jaw dropped. "Th-That annoying woman is going to be here? To teach Rin how to use a sword?"

"_Scaredy-cat_, I haven't given an answer yet," Shura drawled, "so relax, it isn't for sure just yet."

Fujimoto looked at her, a question in his eyes.

"But," she continued, grinning predatorily at Yukio, "I've decided to give your twin a chance once he's feeling better."

The younger twin's face fell noticeably, and his expression turned gloomy. "Why? What have I done to deserve this?"

The elder twin's face was a knotted mass of pain, but he still managed to speak as Yukio hauled him out of the room. "What's so…wrong with her teachin' me?"

As they exited, Yukio shook his head mournfully. "If you really become her pupil, you'll know."

"Ah. Yukio, wait." Fujimoto said. "Rin, where's your pendant?"

Rin managed to pull an arm up and flop his hand in the general direction of the object in question. "Corner."

Fujimoto stood and retrieved the necklace before he walked over to Rin and put it around the boy's neck. Shura looked at the pendant before grinning to herself.

If she did train the kid, she was going to have _fun_ with it, she thought as Yukio, having refused any help from the clergy members, continued to drag an exhausted, migraine-ridden Rin to their room.

"Any idea when he'll be better?" Shura asked casually, sitting up against the wall and wiping a few tears out of her eyes.

Fujimoto raised his eyebrows at her from his position at the door. "I know that glint in your eye, Shura. You interested?"

"Maaaaaaaaybe~," she shrugged, "More importantly, when will he be better and when is my ramen going to be here?"

"Maybe Tuesday, but he has school this week."

"So what? I want a day with him—just me and him, quality time together!" She grinned and then stood, staggering over to Fujimoto and supporting herself against him. "And I want pork miso. Two bowls, got it?"

Fujimoto sighed, making Shura grin even wider.

If nothing else, this was due to be entertaining.

* * *

><p>Come Saturday morning, Rin was excited for training—this did <em>not <em>mean that he was a little leery of his new teacher.

When Shura had started looking incredibly thoughtful after hearing about Fujimoto's decision to make Rin wait until the weekend for evaluation, he had told the woman that "_You are _not _pulling Rin out of school any day of the week. Understand, Shura?_"

Apparently, Shura listened to his father. Rin could completely understand that, as Fujimoto was the Most Awesome Person On Earth (and sometimes the scariest). However, that didn't mean she wasn't prone to finding ways _around_ what the Paladin said.

For example, Rin had seen her _several times_ around the school, observing him from behind corners and peering through the classroom window at him. Not only that, but he often got this horrible, hair-raising feeling that somebody was _watching_ and he had the sneaking suspicion that it was _her_.

Rin sighed and sat up in bed, throwing back the covers and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He yawned widely, scratched the back of his head, and then looked up.

Two huge purple eyes stared into his.

"_GYAAH_!" He screamed, lashing out with his legs and scooting backwards with his arms. "_What the HELL?_"

The woman threw back her head and laughed, hands on hips. "Hah! Yer didn't even hear me coming! I made sure to step on those creaky floorboards outside your room, too! What a promising apprentice you're turning out to be," she drawled, a strange light in her eye.

Rin wondered for a moment _what creaky floorboards_ before his mind whiplashed back to the fact that The Woman was in his room and was in his face and had _scared the living daylights out of him_.

"YOU!" he screamed and leapt out of bed, pointing a finger at a nonchalant Shura. "What kind of person _are_ you, sneaking up on people and…and disturbing them from their rest!"

"Admiiiiiiiiiit it," she snarked, taking a step back and turning around to lean against the bedroom wall, "yer were _scared_."

Rin felt him mouth pull itself into a snarl. "Was _not_."

"Was too!" Shura chirped cheerfully before sticking out her tongue.

"Was _not!_"

"Too!"

"Not!" The boy stomped his foot and glowered at the woman, face getting redder and redder by the moment.

The woman cackled and laughed at him. "Was _toooooooo_~!" she sang gleefully, appearing to relax even more against the wall.

"_WAS N-_"

Rin found a slender hand, calloused from using a sword, placed gently over his mouth. He stiffened. A quiet, breathless moment later, there was the rustle of clothing and a breath by his ear.

"_Was too, scaaaaaaaardy_," she whispered, before she suddenly stepped away from him lightly and leaned back against the wall, staring at him contemplatively.

The boy blinked a few times and then gathered his wits. "Jerk, I was _not_ scared!"

"Suuuuuure," she drawled, pushing herself off the wall and turning around to sashay out of the room. "Kid, once yer done with breakfast, meet me in yer trainin' room. We'll see how good Fujimoto's kid _really_ is."

She lifted a hand in the signature _I'm cool and I know it_ wave as she turned the corner, leaving Rin standing in front of his messy bed, arm still limply extended and mouth open slightly.

Rin narrowed his eyes. There was no way he was losing to that woman.

That morning, Rin wolfed down his breakfast with even more gusto than normal, not even tasting the customary meal of rice and fish. He chugged the tall glass of milk in huge gulps, barely avoiding choking on it because of his experience with holding his breath for long periods of time. Whenever they went swimming in school, which admittedly wasn't often, he would have a silent competition with the other boys to see who could stay under water the longest.

Rin was rather proud of the fact that he always won.

The driving force behind his hurry that morning wasn't only the fact that he was eager to show Shura that he was good enough for her—it was the images in his head, pictures of himself wielding a huge sword, one of those cool European ones, and making sure that no shadowy being attacked his dad or Yukio. He would leap heroically in (because heroes always showed up at the last possible moment) as the situation seemed dire, and then he would defeat the evil guys and his father would praise him and his brother would admire him and he'd be _so cool_.

_Or_, he thought as he nearly _ran_ to the room, pulling the key to the room out of the pocket of his shorts, _it'd be cool to have a katana. Like the samurai! _

In his excitement, he fumbled with the key in front of the door before he managed to jam it into the lock, turning it as he pushed down on the brass handle. He pulled the key out as he entered the room and pushed it into his pocket when he stepped around the heavy oak door, nearly buzzing with excitement.

Shura was nowhere to be seen, and he blinked in confusion as he shut the door behind him and flipped on the light switch.

"Kid, yer have some poor observation skills." A voice came from his left, where the open door had been, and he jumped out of his skin for what seemed to be the second time in less than an hour.

"J-just what do you think you're doing?" he blustered, trying to calm his furiously beating heart down and narrow his wide eyes. "And who says I have bad obser-observation skills? Honestly, d'you have nothin' better to do than sc-stalk people? You kept _creeping_ on me at school!"

The woman raised her eyebrows and shifted her weight to her right leg, jutting her hip out as she placed her hip on it.

"Hoo? Yer saw me? I wasn't really trying, but those teachers don't take well to seeing their students being spied on so I had to be a little careful, y'know." She chuckled a little, and something like amusement flickered across her face.

Rin screwed up his face into a scowl and crossed his arms across his chest rebelliously. "What're we doing?"

"Ah," she said, looking down at him with a slightly predatorial grin. "I thought we'd play tag. I'll be it first, if yer want."

The boy narrowed his eyes at the perceived insinuation. "Why're we playing tag? That's a kid's game."

"'Cause it's a test and I said so," she drawled. "So, like I said, I'll go fir—"

"No!" he interrupted. "If it's really a test, then I'll go first! You're testing me, not yourself, right?"

She smirked at him, and at that moment he really hated their height difference. He hated the sense of being mocked and seen as inferior, he _absolutely hated it_. "Whatever yer want, kid."

"I'm not a kid!" he snapped as he moved to take off his necklace, as he usually did within the room. However, Shura intercepted one hand, easily leaning to cross the distance between them.

"Leave it be for now, 'kay?"

He looked at her in confusion, but let his hands drop and left the pendant lying underneath his shirt.

"Okay!" She chirped and spun around him to skip into the center of the room. Once she reached it, the woman turned and looked at him, holding up one finger. "Rules now, okay?"

Rin nodded and crossed his arms across his chest once more. "Fine." Despite his short tone and defensive posture, he was nearly trembling with excited energy.

"Rule one: No hitting or physical attacks. Good?"

_I don't need to hit her to beat her,_ Rin thought as he nodded.

"Rule two: If yer flames come out, we stop. 'kay?"

Rin was slightly confused with this, as his flames never ignited with the necklace on. If they did, he would have to be very very angry, and he suddenly got a sneaking terrible feeling about this 'game'.

"Rule three: We stop when I say stop. No objections. That's all, yer understand?"

Despite his new misgivings about the whole situation, Rin nodded and readied himself, shifting into a stance that would allow him to launch himself at her easily.

Shura's smile grew even more predatory at the action he took, and she seemed to relax even more, which confused him. "Okay. Ready?"

Rin's legs tensed and he focused on her.

"Seeeeeeeet," she drawled, shifting her weight in a way that looked totally unprepared for any sort of attack and looking at the ceiling.

He narrowed his eyes at the action, clearly able to read it for what it was. _She didn't take him seriously_.

"Goooooo!"

The boy took off, attempting a straight approach even as he noticed that she didn't even move out of the way. Even though he was confused, he didn't stop or hesitate.

_"Once you commit to something, you can't hesitate. If you stop, if you wonder if what you're really doing is the right thing once you've committed, it makes it more likely for you or somebody else to be hurt,"_

Rin snapped his arm out and lunged, trying his best to keep his weight even so that he could draw back if need be.

_"This doesn't mean that you should charge headfirst into something," Fujimoto said as he adjusted Rin's balance so that he could move forward and backward easily, "because it is equally as important to be able to retreat a step if the demon attacks unexpectedly."_

His fingers touched nothing but air, even though only a second before there had been the solid form of a stomach. A black flash caught his eye and he spun to the right, where Shura had dodged so fast he hadn't been able to track it.

Rin halted and looked at her, eyes wide. "How'd you do that?"

Shura only sniggered and rocked back on her heels, hands behind her back childlishly. "Another secret," she sang, and sprang to her toes the moment Rin twitched in her direction to dodge.

It soon became a pattern, the lunging and the barely dodging, and Rin became more and more frustrated the longer the 'game' continued.

On the nth time Rin missed the woman, he growled and narrowed his eyes even further. His actions became less controlled and driven out of more rage than calculation.

Rin was never good with calculating a fight, but when he had a more level head than usual he tended to be able to analyze a fight better.

At the sight of the snarling face and the furious movements of the boy, Shura smirked and opened her mouth.

"Is this really all yer can do?" she asked as she dodged a sharp jab at her thigh, swinging around and turning her back to him in a gesture that was absolutely provocative. "Is this all Fujimoto's kid can do?"

"Shut up," Rin snarled, sweating and panting, his surroundings lost to the overwhelming need to catch the woman who might be his teacher. "Just shut up."

"Did yer think that yer could really measure up to your father? He's the Paladin, yer know. The strongest of them all."

Rin growled and had to force himself to keep his hands loose, to stop them from tightening into fists. "I _know_."

"And Yukio? He's the kid known as the 'genius exorcist'. Yer brother, he's the youngest to ever achieve the status of Esquire."

The boy snuck a foot out and barely missed Shura's boot, which made him make a strangled noise. To make matters worse, the woman literally _lept_ over his bent body, handspringing and landing on her feet before assuming a nonchalant, bored position.

"Yah, this is all yer've got? Yer think yer can protect them, protect Shiro and four-eyes? That's bull," she said, looking _through _the boy who had frozen in the middle of the room. "That's worthless dreaming, yer know. The way yer are now…yer _dead_ in my world, kid. Did yer think that yer were good enough to impress me? Like _hell_, kid. Like _hell_."

Shura turned around, ponytail swinging behind her, and Rin, angry and furious and tired and _hurt_, moved faster than he had all practice, leaping at the woman.

She simply sidestepped and let him crash to the ground a few feet from the wall opposite the door. "Wow," she drawled, crouched a little more than an arm's length away from him, "Yer worse than Yukio is. That's saying something."

Rin's eyes widened and then narrowed angrily, and he started to shake.

"Hooooo? Yer mad? Sad? Angry that I'm telling yer the facts? This is the hard truth, kid," she said coldly, standing and turning once more. "I've had enough. You're nothing, even worse than your four-eyed genius brother who couldn't catch a slug if it were moving through molasses."

His breath hitched, and he propped himself up and tilted his head just enough to see that swaying, swinging ponytail.

_"Every creature has a weakness, Rin. Even people."_

Rin narrowed his eyes, rocked back onto his haunches, and lunged.

_"…even worse than your four-eyed genius brother who couldn't catch a slug…"_

By the time Shura heard him moving, suspected the suspicious quiet, he was already in motion, hand outstretched.

"Don't call me weak!"

By the time Shura turned and moved out of the way, his hand had already managed to fist itself around her hair.

"_Shi—"_ Shura started to say, her hand reaching back to grab the top of her ponytail and prevent the inevitable pain.

"And _don't_ insult my little brother!" He continued, his eyes widened in fury and blue flames flickering over his hair and trailing down to the hand that was clutching the woman's hair.

Underneath all of the anger and frustration, there was the dim sense of victory—he'd _caught_ her.

* * *

><p>Once her eyes caught sight of the blue fire feeding off of Rin's anger, Shura knew it was time to stop this game and have a little talk. Sure, the kid still had some lingering strength issues, but they were mostly resolved—no need to pick at that wound more than she already had. Her problem was with how quick Rin was to anger, and if it was truly wise to teach him. While it was somewhat admirable that the thing that pushed him over the edge was how she'd started to insult his brother as well as him, it still wasn't healthy. Anger clouded a person's vision—she knew this very well. A strong fighter was one who didn't let that anger dim their judgment. A dangerous fighter to partner up with was one who did let it happen.<p>

So Shura turned and let her hair slide over her shoulder before bracing herself for the impact that was sure to happen.

Rin was so surprised that he'd let go of her hair, his eyes still wide but not so angry and the flames on his head sputtered out with the onslaught of confusion. Something like understanding flickered in his eyes as he suddenly processed the situation a split second before contact, and Shura couldn't see his face anymore.

The impact caused her to slide a foot back to accommodate for the sudden force moving her body backwards. His head had slammed into her gut, and it was all she could do to keep herself from retching all over him.

That didn't stop her from dropping him to the ground and bending over the boy to cough onto the floor.

It took what seemed like forever for the coughing to stop, and her arms quivered with every heave that wracked her body.

"Hey? Hey, boo—Shura-san, you okay?"

At least he didn't call her 'Kirigakure-san' like his brother did, that little snot.

Shura waved him off with one hand. "All…good," she wheezed out before flopping onto the floor. "Looooord, your head is hard."

She heard him hesitantly back up a few steps and looked up at the kid, who was staring down at her in horror.

"Don't look like that, yer didn't kill me. I'm made of sterner stuff than that, yer know?" Shura groaned as she sat up and leaned back on her arms casually before crossing her legs. "C'mon, get down here. We need to talk."

Rin was hesitant for a bit, but sat down across from her. She could see some of the anger returning to his eyes now that it was clearer she was alright and he hadn't managed to send her to the hospital.

"I'm talking to yer plainly now," she said shortly, "no insults, no nothing. Why should I take on a snotty little brat like yer?"

The boy's eyes narrowed and he snapped back, "Why does it matter to you? Why are you even _asking_? After all, I'm _nothing_."

Were she not facing the kid, Shura would have allowed herself to wince. She had forgotten that she was dealing with a nine-year-old boy who was still developing, not a teenager or an adult that could brush it off easily.

But she didn't wince. Instead, after inwardly panicking about what she was supposed to do, she finally settled on the option that she felt would work the best.

"It's because I respect your dad," she started, "and he asked for it. But I'm not going to take on any student because somebody I respect asks me to—in fact, if it weren't _Fujimoto_, I wouldn't have even considered it. In the end, Rin, you're the one who makes it possible or not. Now. Why should I take you on as my _deishi_, my apprentice?"

Sincerity. Many kids could sense how sincere a person was, especially since people tended to underestimate them, and Shura was honestly riding on that, hoping against all hope that Rin would understand and not succumb to his anger.

If he remained angry, she would be forced to look at Shiro's disappointed face when she told him that she would not take Rin under her wing.

Rin opened his mouth angrily, and for a heartbeat Shura thought that he would lose the opportunity his father had managed to coerce her into offering.

And then he shut his mouth, looked contemplative, and bowed his head in thought.

The next few moments were silent, but for the light breaths each took.

Slowly, Rin turned his hands palm-up and appeared to look at them. "I…" he continued, "I just want to make sure others don't get hurt. I wanna protect them. Not just Dad and Yukio…others. Like Jiborou-san and Kidomaru-san and everybody else at the church. Like that little girl Dad and I saw in Nagano, even the..." he choked a little on the words but kept going, "those _birds_. They've done nothing wrong, they don't deserve to be hurt…if anything or anybody tried, I'd…I'd wanna be there to protect them.

"And when I got hurt and saw everybody all sad from it, I want to protect them from that too, which means I gotta be able to keep myself safe. I want to keep others from feeling that way too—if it's there, I wanna be able to stop it. The danger, I mean. And I've…I've been thinking about that night. After Nagano, I mean. And if Yukio came home that hurt or if even _Dad_ came home that hurt, I'd be mad and sad and worried, just like they were. So…"

Rin raised his head, and the determined eyes he wore made something tingle down her back and widen her eyes a little.

"So if you _won't_ teach me, then I'll do it myself!" Rin stood and looked down at her, trying to seem bigger and more capable than he really was. "I'll figure out a sword myself, I'll make sure that those I treasure and those who've done nothing wrong and…and even those who _have_ done something wrong…I'll make sure that they're kept safe!"

He looked down at her with those determined eyes and with those determined, high-reaching words and some resolve within her broke.

She always did have a softness for those kinds of people.

Shura let out a soft breath even as Rin sucked in more air to continue on his rant.

"Hey, hey, you're good now, kid. Think that's enough of a break? Wanna go on? I heard that your forms need work—yer know, footwork's important with swordsmanship. Yer gotta be able to balance yerself, so we can work on that next."

The woman stood and snickered to herself at the astounded face Rin had on, his rapidly blinking eyes and his mouth open and ready to defend himself.

Once she stood up though, his face fell into a more natural grin even as his eyes narrowed in anticipation.

"You're on!"

That night, an exhausted Rin nearly slept in his food several times, the only thing saving him from having rice on his face being the presence of his younger brother at his side, pulling him up and away from the meal even as everybody else laughed. Eventually, Yukio gave up and dragged a boneless Rin to their room.

"I'll have to leave some food out for him," Jirobou said gaily as he and the other clergy member present, Yasu, cleaned up the table. "He's bound to get up sometime around midnight—do you want me to leave it on the counter, Fujimoto-san? And sit down, we've got it. Go talk to Kirigakure-san about Rin's training."

Shura twitched.

Fujimoto sat down into the chair again, having half-risen from it with the intention to help the others. "That would be good, thank you. If he doesn't get up, that's fine—we can put it back with the other food if it's wrapped before being set out. You know how rice gets when refrigerated."

"Sure thing, Fujimoto-san," Yasu said politely before he carried all the bowls into the kitchen. "Jirobou-kun, you wash and I'll dry and put the dishes away."

"Why does it have to be me?" Jiborou whined, disappearing into the kitchen after Yasu.

The last thing Shura heard before the door was shut was Yasu explaining how he had seniority and that was final.

Fujimoto broke the short silence. "So…how did it go?"

"Yer kid's got some temperamental problems," she drawled. "His flames came out during training even though the necklace was on."

He started, worried, but froze at the look on her face. "…what did you do to him?"

"Well," she started out, leaning back in her chair and tipping it onto the back two legs, "we started off with tag and I teased him into finding out where his frustration-levels lie. Yer know, the thing that pushed him over was me insulting his little brother. Can see now, but it was a bit surprising at the time."

Shiro did not look too amused. "And?"

"We talked it over after he grabbed me by the hair and he impressed me enough that I decided to keep training with him. He's pretty quick for his age, yer kid. I mean, he caught on real fast with the balance thing—have yer worked with him on it before?"

"Yes," Fujimoto said, "but not often."

Shura shrugged. "It makes sense, I guess. Kid's technique is rough—I'm going to be putting him through more hand-to-hand before he even _touches_ a practice sword. Kicks and punches are pretty damn important in a fight, yer know."

"So…you're taking him on?" Fujimoto asked and winced as the legs of Shura's chair creaked. "Please stop doing that."

She pouted, but sat properly in the chair once more. "Yeah, yeah, but I got a couple conditions first."

The Paladin blinked at her before waving a hand at her to continue.

"First! I want food every day I'm here. I'm gonna work that kid into the _ground_, yer got it? Second: I want to pull him outta school when I need to. Gonna take a page outta your book and take him out on a few missions—if they go late, there's no reason for him to go to school and sleep there instead of in his bed."

"I'm not too keen on that idea…"

Shura flapped a hand dismissively. "Rlaaaax, gramps, yer too uptight about this! Rin could be as dumb as I am and still be able to make a living! I mean, lookit me!"

"…I don't plan on enlisting Rin in the Exorcist Corps."

The woman froze and leaned forward. "Then how the hell is he supposed to live? I mean, yeah, he's Satan's kid, but still!"

"At this point," Fujimoto raised his voice just slightly—they didn't want Yukio or, while unlikely, Rin overhearing—, "I cannot see Rin as being able to survive in such a world. Not when, even nine years later, people are still smarting about the Blue Night. If circumstances change, if things settle down or I have no other option…maybe. But now, the answer is an absolute _no_."

An awkward, heavy silence settled over the table, and Shura dispelled it as best as she could with a shrug. "Okay, fine. I'll try not to take him out too often, and it's not going to start very soon anyways—only after he learns some kendo. Now…" she smirked.

Her grin grew wider at how slightly nervous Shiro looked.

"As my third and final stipulation, I want beer! Beer for every meal I'm here and for snacks in between!" she crowed and leaned back once more in the chair, making the legs creak.

"_Absolutely not_!" Fujimoto squawked. "I am _not_ having you teach bad habits to my children—that's the reason I gave up smoking!"

"_Doesn't matter~_" Shura sang, "I'm of age and I can do it legally, and there's no way I'm _not_ giving something like free beer up! Or…" she let the chair down with a _thump_ and leaned across the table, "do yer really not want Rin to get his schooling?"

Fujimoto ground his teeth.

Shura smirked at him, looking like a cat that had just eaten the canaries in the birdcage.

"I," Fujimoto said shortly, "will supply three cans of beer every day you are here. Whether you choose to have them all with one meal or one with every meal or whatever is up to you. But for _God's sake_ don't get drunk in front of them!"

Knowing very well that her tolerance for alcohol was incredibly low, Shura nodded happily. "Got it!"

The very next day, right after she got drunk during Rin's light practice, Fujimoto banned her from beer unless it was after dinner and out of the boys' sight.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Holly is symbolic for these things: Purity, **Strength, **Logic, Level-headed thinking, **Focus**, **Power**, **Protection**, Healing.

Oak is symbolic for these things: Truth, Knowledge, **Protection, Intuition, Observation**.

I've bolded the things I think are most important for Rin's training...Obviously, they were chosen mainly for the 'protection' aspect, but they also included some other aspects I appreciated. For example, Willow also has protective qualities, but they're more...feminine, shall we say. Fertility, cycle of life, luck, et cetera.

What else should I explain...Well, Shura. Shura _is_ legal to drink-in Japan. She also speaks with 'yer' instead of 'you', something I debated about putting into the story before giving in due to characterization. You've probably already noticed that she doesn't use 'yer' all the time-your, you're, and the times she's really serious. At least, that's how I'm viewing it...

I hope that I've managed to capture Shura adequately, but feel like I took liberties with her personality-mainly, the weakness for determined kids.

Well, that's it! Until the next chapter, whenever it may come. I have a two-week break the end of October/Beginning November, so I hope I'll have some writing time then.

Thank you so much!

Updated September 9, 2011.


	4. Der Tag der Unscharfe Grenzen

**A/N: **NO I DIDN'T DIE. I just was without Internet for the last full week of the month... (sweatdrops)

I'm sorry I didn't get to replying to reviews this chapter-I'll try and see if I can do it after uploading, but...I can get really distracted really easily.

So, without internet in Italy for a week. I set to writing this chapter, and was going (around page 18), _Nah, this chapter won't be too long. Maybe as long as the first chapter, but not too long. I mean, it's a holiday special-they're not supposed to be huge, and I don't see how I can pull this out further.._.

...Guess what happened? _IT GOT LONG_.

There are those of you, assuredly, looking at the scroll bar on the right side of the screen and thinking _Huh? This chapter ISN'T as long! It's kinda short, actually..._

The reason?

'Chapter Four' turned out to be about a little over 46 pages and 17,667 words long. And that was...OH GOD WHY. I was then presented with a dilemma.

Should I upload this monster as one chapter, or cut it into two, more easily read parts? I realized afterwards that I have no break during November. NONE...Okay, fine, I have one on the 28th, but that's after the last Friday in November. Not only that, but I have to go to SCHOOL on the 26th (the horror! Why? Why do they take away my Saturday like that?). So, seeing as I have done quite well with writing when I have a) time, b) it's from about 7:00 to 12:00 PM (or later), and c) no distractions via internet access, and only eight pages without all of these points (I wrote about 38 pages of the 'chapter' in three days. THREE DAYS), I thought it would be better for me to go with the latter option.

...Hey, I can ABSOLUTELY ASSURE an edited chapter next month.

So. Yes. Here's your long-awaited chapter, and Chapter Five is DEFINITELY a go.

(if you see anything funny in the chapter, just tell me-I had no internet to research off of for the bulk of this chapter, after all. I did a little Saturday night after I got back, but...dunno if I missed anything)

_Updated 30. 11. 2011_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three: <span>_Der Tag der Unscharfe Grenzen_

( The Day of Blurred Boundaries )

.

The chill wind blew through the nearly bare branches of the trees, knocking loose a few more leaves and depositing them on the ground, which looked as though it was alight from the fiery colors already scattered all over the earth. The elementary school, built in red and off-white-painted brick, stood quietly behind the small grove that had been meticulously planted there in earlier years for the enjoyment of the children attending. The windows gleamed softly in the mid-afternoon sun, and colorful fall decorations adorned the school entrance. The scene was a landscape artist's dream, a poets phenomenon, a photographer's masterpiece for these key reasons; it was quiet, peaceful, and beautiful in its still, warm simplicity.

And then the school bell rang.

There was only a brief pause before the quiet suddenly was shattered by young chatter. Children ran screaming out of the building, high-pitched voices shrieking and laughing. The youngest set off to nearby day-cares, and the eldest ran off to play games or do whatever homework they had been assigned. After the majority of the children had departed, the school doors opened again, revealing a samurai with cardboard armor with a cookie tin under one arm and a person that looked suspiciously like a chibified military man out of the Fullmetal Alchemist series.

They exited the school grounds and ran across the street just before the pedestrian light switched to red. Once they'd slowed down to a walk, Rin fidgeted with his armor and tugged at the straps of his backpack gingerly.

Yukio saw one of the strings that was holding together the whole contraption Rin was wearing loosen as a result of the action, and frowned. "Rin, if you pull at it it's going to fall apart."

His eleven-year-old brother scowled at him. "It's not my fault that it's so stiff!"

"Actually," Yukio pointed out, adjusting the collar of his Kain Fuery cosplay costume, "You chose to use cardboard. I _did_ suggest felt or something of the like, but I remember you saying something about it being for pansies."

Rin flushed and jerked his face away from his brother as he slowed to a halt. "Shut up," he shot back, jabbing the 'walk' button with a little more force than was necessary. "I don't see you being too comfortable in that thing there."

The boots he was wearing felt too loose on his feet and legs—and for good reason; they were several sizes too large for him. "I'm doing perfectly fine," he lied through his teeth. "I'm not uncomfortable at all."

His brother turned back around to shove his face close to his brother's, an unsettling grin on his face. "Hey, Yukio, you know that Big Brother knows everything, right? You shouldn't lie to your big brother."

Yukio stared at him unconcernedly. "Who says I'm lying?"

The light across the way changed to a green figure walking, and they stepped onto the street. "Well," Rin drawled, still grinning, "I saw you put that thing on this morning—starched, so stiff you can't bend the arms properly—and you were having problems writing today, too! Plus, you're walking funny."

He wouldn't ever admit it out loud, but Yukio's gait had shifted and he often either lifted his feet too much or not enough as a result of the extra weight the boots caused. "Not any funnier than you are," Yukio pointed out.

Rin's socked toes scrunched up in an attempt to keep the black flip-flops to his feet, and he carefully jumped onto the curb. "I walk more normally than you do," he retorted, throwing the cookie tin up into the air before catching it.

Yukio watched him do this a few more times before a glint appeared in his eyes. He tilted his head just enough to let the glasses reflect the light before he grinned good-naturedly at his brother. "Hey, Rin, those cookies were really good, weren't they?"

The elder twin stopped for a moment, looking at his brother with slightly narrowed eyes. "Why're we suddenly talking about my cookies?"

"It's just that you tossing the tin up reminded me," Yukio said truthfully, stopping as well, and did his best to radiate that sincerity in every way he could.

Rin stared at him for a few moments more before he hesitantly started walking again. "Yeah, but it was a new recipe, so it wasn't as good as it could have been. I messed up with the icing—it was a little too sour."

"Not really," Yukio chided, patiently building up his trap. "I didn't think it was that bad, and I don't think the others didn't enjoy them."

Rin blushed a little and reached up to scratch the back of his head before he realized that his samurai-esque helmet was in the way. "Heheh…thanks, Yukio," he said warmly.

It almost made Yukio regret what he was going to say next.

"It's such a shame, though," he probed, "that nobody believed you when you said that you baked them."

His brother stuttered to a stop, and Yukio could _see_ the dumbfounded, betrayed expression on his face even though the younger twin had kept walking after the statement.

"You…you _jerk_!" Rin cried, and he ran up to the other boy as they rounded the corner and crossed the street to enter the park. It was a common shortcut for them. "That was…that was _mean_!"

"Only the truth, Rin," Yukio said in a flat voice, but there was a hint of amusement that he didn't manage to keep out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rin pouting childishly as he kicked at the ground beside the swings.

There was a reason that people generally thought Yukio was the elder of the two after observing the two of them for a while. With his immaculate appearance, behavior, and the presence of glasses, people generally saw this maturity as a byproduct of being the elder. Rin's childish tendencies, short temper, and generally low grades in school tended to cast him in the light of the younger who always lived in the shadow of his talented older brother.

However, Rin never held anything against his younger brother for this. Once, when they were a little younger, Yukio had asked.

_"Why should I feel jealous?" Rin answered, honestly confused. "I mean, you're an awesome little brother! I've got help with my homework whenever I need it and I get bragging rights. What's wrong with that?"_

Sometimes, Yukio thought, Rin was far too supportive of him. Normal brothers would feel jealousy despite a close relationship. Then again, Rin wasn't exactly a normal brother.

"…so mean sometimes, Yukio." Rin's fist came out and gently punched him on the shoulder. Yukio swayed to lessen the impact instinctively, but didn't retaliate physically.

"Somebody has to keep you on your toes, Rin," he said, smiling at his elder brother, "because you tend to be too trusting of people."

Rin's eyebrows furrowed and he scowled. "Am not," he said darkly, glancing over at a group of teens who were smoking on the opposite side of the playground. Yukio turned and saw one twirling a pocketknife between his fingers expertly. They were exchanging jokes, texting other people, and two on the side were playing with a hackey-sack.

The brothers exited the playground and continued on home in relative silence. As they waited for a car to pass them to cross the street, Rin spoke up again.

"Hey, Yukio, what're you doing today? I mean, Dad's out and nobody but Sensei Boobs is home…"

Yukio shrugged and stepped off the curve. "Well, homework first of course—and then helping you with yours."

Rin huffed his eye twitched. "I don't have any homework."

"I'm in the same class as you," Yukio deadpanned, "and I know that you have some science homework _for sure_. Just because we had a Halloween party today at the end as part of our cultures unit doesn't mean that we partied the entire day."

The elder twin ran from white line to white line before springing up onto the opposite side of the street. "Hurry up, Yukio! You're gonna get run over!"

"Stop changing the subject," Yukio mumbled, but nevertheless quickened his pace, reaching his brother within moments.

They were quite a second longer, turning left to go down the street to their house, before Rin spoke up again. "I mean, other than homework. Like… are you going to train tonight? How long? That kinda stuff."

As he was saying this, Rin fidgeted. Yukio's attention narrowed in on the action, and his mind quickly processed the former events.

Rin's head was turned slightly up and away from him, and he kept fiddling with the cheap obi holding up his pants. The cardboard armor scratched and rubbed against Rin's cotton top, and was cracked and bent where the straps of the backpack placed weight on them.

Yukio sighed and looked up at the sky. "You know, if you really want to go trick or treating, you only have to ask."

"But!" Rin trotted ahead a short ways and turned around, walking backwards. "You said that trick or treating is childish!"

The younger twin shrugged. "I changed my mind. If nothing else, the candy should be useful for bribing Shura to do small things."

Rin suddenly froze, causing Yukio to nearly run into him. "Wait…wait…_how're we supposed to get her to go with us?_"

Yukio paused in adjusting his glasses mid-moment. "That's…that's true."

Turning to the street, Rin rubbed an imaginary beard with two fingers. "Um…We could get some alcohol?"

Yukio passed by his brother and tugged him along by the arm. "Where would we get it? Father keeps it in a locked cupboard, and I swear he knows every time Shura so much as _looks_ at it."

"She's so bored she'll go with us!"

"While that idea has some merit," Yukio sighed, "I can see her simply taking us out to exorcise things. She's have more fun that way."

Rin shook free of Yukio's hold and stared at the cookie tin contemplatively. Yukio turned and saw the glint in his brother's eye.

This was the glint that tended to get them into trouble.

"Rin," Yukio started, but was cut off by Rin's carefully speculative voice.

"We…we are _so_ old enough to go solo." He announced, and Yukio knew that he had to stop this. When Rin went out for long periods of time on his own, or even _with_ Yukio, things had a tendency to go wrong.

"We're _eleven_, Rin."

"Almost teenagers! Besides, Kuro can come with us!"

Yukio opened his mouth to dispute the point, but closed it as he thought about it. Kuro, whom Fujimoto had brought back about a year ago after a mission gone wonderfully right, had been tasked with protecting Rin. While Fujimoto had explained it as 'finally being able to afford something like a pet,' Yukio _knew_ that this was Rin's guardian, for when Fujimoto wasn't around. Rin hadn't read into it, but sometimes he stared at Kuro, brow furrowed in thought. That aside, Kuro was a strong Nekotama, and if something bad happened they at least had a demon on their side…

He shook his head to dispel the dangerous thought and rapidly tried to come up with an explanation as to _why_ this would be a bad idea.

Rin jumped on the pause like a failing student would on the chance to cheat on an important test. "See? See? It's fine—Kuro's the most awesome Ne—cat ever!" he hastily checked himself as a high school-er on a bike raced past them, pedaling as though his life depended on it. "If we've got somebody to cover our butts, then everyth—"

"Father." Yukio interjected, and that was all he needed to say to state his counter argument as he pushed open the iron gate to the church. The short squeal produced by the motion only served to emphasize his point.

His brother opened his mouth, closed it, and then spoke with a slight stutter. "H-he doesn't have to know! He's getting home really late, isn't he? Like, midnight or something!"

"And do you think Shura will hesitate to tell on us?" Yukio said dryly.

Rin reached out to shut the gate, but jerked his hand back upon contact. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, right before angrily kicking it.

Yukio barely managed to stop it from slamming into place. "Rin!" He didn't need to voice the question for Rin to understand it.

"It _burned_ me," Rin explained irritatedly. "I mean, it's got to have left a mark—look!"

The palm thrust out at Yukio was smooth and unblemished by any sort of burn mark. The younger twin frowned.

"Rin, there's nothing there."

The boy blinked. "Huh?" The hand was retracted, and Rin stared at the skin. He flexed his hand once, twice, and wiggled all his fingers before shrugging off the confusion and turning to head inside. "I guess it was just my imagination."

Yukio, however, wasn't as convinced. As he absentmindedly latched the gate shut, he stared at Rin's back. Was something wrong? Was the demon blood in Rin growing stronger? Would Rin suddenly become unrecognizable, or be more susceptible to anti-demon objects such as iron or holy water? Would—

"Yukio, you coming in? 'Cause I'll lock you out if you don't hurry up!"

With one last look at the gate, Yukio put the matter aside and followed his brother into the house.

* * *

><p>Shura leaned back in the chair and tipped it onto two legs, the light of the setting sun illuminating her figure in golds and reds. A fist propping her chin up, she looked out the window contemplatively. Her brow furrowed, her gaze seemed far away, and she seemed to be considering something of great importance.<p>

She had already trained the snot out of Rin, teased Yukio until his hands twitched towards where his guns should be, and had attempted two or three times to break into Fujimoto's sake cabinet. Each and every one of those times, she chickened out, and now she was bored.

Absolutely, unequivocally _bored_.

As of right now, she had sent Rin and Yukio off to do their homework and sat in the dining room, waiting for a mission call that hadn't come. Usually, she was swamped with work on All Hallow's Eve—It was Samhain, after all. It was the time when the boundaries between Asshia and Gehenna were blurred—demons and humans alike moved more easily from world to world. What did this mean for Exorcists around the world?

_Overtime_.

It didn't matter what rank you held or what standing you'd achieved among your fellow exorcists, you were _busy_ on Halloween. You sweated tears and blood and worked throughout the night until, at the earliest, midnight. It was one of the nights both loved and hated by all Exorcists—hated for its tendency to make everything a lot harder than it needed to be, and loved for its tendency to put more money in the pocket.

And Shura was missing out on the _fun_.

Yeah, she'd cussed the snot out of it more than once, she thought absentmindedly as she tipped the chair back forward quietly, but it could be fun. Really.

There was some primal, inhuman side of her that relished in tearing through the demons as though they were nothing, a part of her that basked in the aching muscles and stinging sweat as she swung her demon sword. And every time she intoned the incancantation for her blade one one of the sacred nights, she felt a chill run down her neck and a thrill echo throughout her entire being.

Hallow's Eve was simply one of those nights that she hated and loved. It was the same, to varying extents, for all Exorcists. That snot Angel, for one, loved the night as much as she did—for all the self-defending preaching he did about how it was all for 'purging these dirty souls from the earth'.

Prude.

Shura stood and walked into the kitchen, thinking all the while about how it was, in all likelihood, a certain someone's fault for keeping her out of the work.

Fujimoto hadn't been able to stop the others soon enough, and it was only luck that Shura hadn't received any messages by the time Kidomaru, the last of the clergy, had been called in.

That had been last night. Right after the round guy had been notified of his departure the next morning, Fujimoto had made a very suspicious call.

Shura hadn't thought much of it until after Shiro had left at five, before the boys even started to get up, and she had no missions. She should have known better than to underestimate the sneaky old badger—he was, after all, first and foremost a father. Paladin came after, and if he had to abuse that power to fulfill the first priority…then so be it.

She opened the fridge with eyes tightly closed. "Please let there be beer please let there be beer please let there be beer…"

Her eyes snapped open, and for the thirteenth time that day, there was no beer. The first time she'd looked, there'd been a cheery note penned by Fujimoto, explaining that just in case any missions came in, she shouldn't be drunk for them.

By noon, and therefore by the fifth time she'd looked, that note had been torn to shreds.

Shura growled and slammed the door shut. Something shuffled a little behind her, and she whirled around in surprise.

Rin stood at the doorway, hand hesitantly held up and (still) costumed in that silly samurai attire, his bokuto hanging at his hip. "Erm…Shura-sensei?"

As she shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms, a little part of her in the back of her mind commented on how good he was getting. "Yeah? Whaddyer want?"

He shifted a little, and Shura heard the shifting of clothing and sliding of feet as Yukio stepped into view. "We'd like to know if you're free."

Strangely enough, Yukio was also dressed, yet again, as that one wimp from that one manga…Fullmetal something or the other. Something was up, and something was also nagging at her, almost like she'd forgotten something and the remembrance had been half-triggered by the reemergence of her charges.

"Dunno…why?"

"Erm…"Rin shifted a little and a black blur pounced lightly onto the boy's shoulder. "We were wondering if you could perhaps…"

"Go trick or treating with us." Yukio said, and he pushed up his glasses, having none of the cautiousness his brother was displaying. After all, Yukio wasn't under her control quite like Rin was—he could be a little more daring.

"Don't wanna." Shura turned her head to the side.

"And why not?" Rin said heatedly, losing the restraint he'd displayed before. The runt always had a habit of doing that—he could never beat around the bush quite as long as Yukio. Rin was made for bluntness, and that was that. Still, Shura could hope…

"Because it's boring, and I'm waiting for that mission to come in." Shura flipped out her cell phone from the tiny pocket in her shorts and opened it swiftly to make her point.

"Father already got the headquarters to not send you anything." Yukio said, the lenses to his glasses flashing as he tilted his head. "You and I both know that, Shura-san."

That kid was going to be an excellent teacher or interrogator someday, Shura thought absentmindedly. "Doesn't change the fact that it's still boring."

"You're bored already, so why not?" Rin said, pointing out the obvious in the way only he could. Rin, as opposed to Yukio, was a master observing the simplest, most overlooked facts and stating them out loud. He could not grasp the complex, but that was okay—a fighter who overlooked one to many movements or observations was a dead fighter. It was better to be able to do what Rin did than do what Yukio did, especially when fighting up close to the opponent

Shura leaned forward onto the table in the middle of the kitchen. "Because it's more troublesome to take yer two out than to stay here and be bored." And for some other reason, but Shura couldn't remember it…

Kuro rubbed his face against Rin's cheek as the boy puffed up in anger. "Well…" Rin said loudly before he paused and glanced at Kuro inquisitively. The boy shook his head before continuing in a lower tone. "Thanks anyways, for being such a _good, nice teacher_ who'd help out her student _any time he needed it_."

Shura winced. "Rin, that was _definitely_ not talking about going out for free sweets."

"He has a point," Yukio pushed up his glasses. "Are you not entrusted with our well-being and, to some extent, entertainment? You never know what children of our age may get up to if left to our own devices… Is Rin not the poster child for this case?"

Yukio ignored the withering glare his brother sent him, and Shura cursed the younger twin's maturity and way with words. Genius indeed…

"Are yer saying you're going to go do something?" Shura asked in a sudden fit of inspiration, and raised an eyebrow. "'Cause if so, I can always tie yer two up. Or train yer till yer can't move no more."

Yukio twitched a bit, and his features flickered in and out of annoyance only once, but Shura had already seen it and allowed a smirk to cross her features. _Score one for Shura_.

Rin tensed up in the doorway and a shudder ran through his body. The woman turned her eyes to him and narrowed them. "Rin, what's—"

"Dunno." Rin said lowly, "I dunno but I don't feel good."

Something crashed through the door, and Shura cursed as she remembered exactly what Fujimoto had told her that morning.

_"I've strengthened the wards already," Fujimoto told her, "but you're going to need to go over them again a little before nightfall. Rin, having awoken, is more likely to draw curious or even bloodthirsty demons towards him—this night is dangerous for him. He is not allowed to go out of the house, and he should go to bed earlier than normal. Rin is the son of Satan—he's part demon, whether I like that or not. This means the demon side of him will be more awake—he'll be more susceptible to anti-demon measurements, such as holy water. He might be able to sense other demons, or even hear their voices. He said he was hearing strange people in his head last year around this time, so it's very likely this'll happen."_

_"So?" Shura asked groggily, still half-asleep, "I just keep him inside, right? Wear him out."_

_"It's going to take a bit to do that," Shiro warned as he shrugged on his Exorcism coat. "Again, it's Samhain. Just…keep the demons out."_

"Shit," Shura swore as she pushed the table out of the way and crossed the kitchen in two giant steps. In a smooth movement, she pulled the boys out of the way and pulled a key off of the ringfull she carried. "When I shut the door, use it—it should take yer to headquarters."

"But Rin—" Yukio protested.

"That doesn't matter now!" Shura said sternly. "Look, yer in more danger here—I'll come and pick yer up as soon as I've taken care of this, okay? It shouldn't take long, and I have a second key!"

Without another word, she'd tossed the key to Yukio, and it glinted bronze in the air before he caught it and she'd slammed the door shut.

The canine Ghoul came around the corner, its rotting jaw open and its decayed tongue hanging out of its mouth. It made a guttural sound in the back of its throat, and Shura thought it was trying to growl.

"Too bad for yer, but I got no time to play." She smirked and held her right hand over the tattoo on her chest. "_Devour the eight princesses…and slay the Serpent!_"

The Ghoul lunged, but was too late as she slashed it in half in one wide swing, placing a wide gash in the old oak table Fujimoto had bought ages ago.

He needed a new one anyways, she thought as the Ghoul toppled two chairs and lay on the floor for a few moments before starting to disintegrate. By that time, Shura was already across the room and had slammed open one of the cupboards.

Rows upon rows of chalk and holy water and other exorcism tools lined the shelves. She pulled out a couple grenades, a good pack of chalk, and shut the door quickly before she ran out of the room and into the entrance.

A few hobgoblins and some low-level _tengu_, crow demons, had infiltrated the hallway. Shura's smile widened and a pointed canine glinted in the red, sunset light.

The demons appraised her, hesitated for a moment, and then lunged.

That moment was all she needed.

She unpinned one of the holy-water grenades and launched it into the midst of the demons. It exploded in a spray of water that left her unscathed but caused the demons to drop like flies, writhing in agony and slowly collapsing into flecks of black. Shura paused only to decapitate a remaining _tengu_ and release a wide-range attack against the Coal Tars in the corner before nimbly jumping over the splintered bottom half of the door.

The yard was a mess of demons and spirits. The door had been the weakest point in the house, but to reinforce it meant that first, she had to clean up the mess.

"Man, Fujimoto," Shura said playfully as she hefted her Demon Sword onto her shoulder, grin savage. "Yer never told me Halloween was this fun. I shoulda stayed the last couple years—it woulda been so much more entertaining!"

A glob of slime attacked her, and she simply slashed through it before lowering herself into a traditional katana-drawing position.

"Here I come!" She sang, and then blurred into motion.

The next thirty minutes where a whirlwind of action and sweat, cutting through one low-level demon after another. She had some small problems with a mid-level _Youko_ that was fairly talented with sensory illusions, but she'd nailed that fox-bastard _hard _in the end.

Grunting, she crouched and released one final wave of energy from her faithful sword, obliviating the swarm of Coal Tars that had been about to assault her. The chattering died away as they died, their decaying bodies throwing black flakes of indistinguishable matter up into the air.

Shura stood from her crouch, assessed the now-empty yard for any possible threats, and then set to work yet again.

The iron gate was uprighted and doused with grade-C holy water. More of the same water was poured into the sewers surrounding the church, and that tiny fountain in the corner was also dosed liberally with the stuff. Shura finally returned to the enterance, slipped through the open gate, and then pulled out a piece of chalk.

Looping letters, intricate curves and arches and circles bloomed into existence as she worked on the protections surrounding the church. She was no slouch at seals and arrays—she'd grafted two onto her skin, after all. Even so, it took her almost a full hour to complete the protective diagrams outside of the property, and they wouldn't do much more than present an annoyance to higher-level demons.

Inside the grounds, she pulled out all the stops—every signal of every origin she knew was cobbled together rather masterfully into something resembling an odd representation of modern art. No flat surface was left untouched—she'd even placed protections around the windows, particularly that of the twin's bedroom. Once she had retreated to the doorway, she slid the last, mostly-used piece of chalk into her back pocket, dusted off her hands, and then punctured her thumb with the remains of the door.

The drop of blood swelled, stilled for one long moment, and then fell directly onto the curve of white placed directly in the center of the doorway.

Red light shone up from the point of impact, and then swiftly followed the lines of chalk to every surface they covered. Every line had been painstakingly connected in some way or form, no matter how large or small. The ray of light had dimmed into a glow as it spread and spread across the yard and out onto the sidewalk, causing the odd passerby to look at the arrays in curiosity in the split second before the light flared and then abruptly dimmed, taking the protective web of chalk with it.

Shura, breathing a little heavier than normal, wiped the bloody thumb on her thigh and leaned against the inside wall for a moment. The daylight had long since faded, and it was past time for her to retrieve the twins. Even though she desperately wanted to take a break—needed to take a break—she knew that if anything happened to the twins, Fujimoto would absolutely _kill_ her.

She paused only to pull the larger scraps of wood into an 'X' across the doorway, and reached down to pull the ring of keys off of one of the belt loops of her shorts. It seemed lighter than normal.

That was normal, she told herself. One of the keys was missing.

She looked down to locate the appropriate key, and then stopped short. Her breath caught.

Horror dawned on her as she realized that instead of only one golden key that lead to the Headquarters of Japanese Exorcists, there were two. The big, heavy, ancient brass key that led to that infested, old _shinden-zukuri_ style building that she'd been meaning to clean out for a few months now…

Was gone.

Her face a pasty white, she stilled for a few moments before cursing and bursting into action.

She was going to _die_, she thought as she pulled out the HQ key and jammed it into the keyhole of Fujimoto's study room. She was going to die a slow and painful death, because by the time she would get to that pagoda, it would be about eleven thirty at best.

The time was eight fifty-seven. Rin and Yukio had been in that place for about an hour and forty minutes. All she could hope for was that they were alive by the time she got there, because she knew Fujimoto was further away than she was.

* * *

><p>The moment they had gone through the door and shut it, Rin knew something was wrong. For one, it was way too musty in the room. Two, it was really really dark. Three…<p>

From what he could see of Yukio's face, his brother looked both confused and worried.

"…Yukio? We're not where we're supposed to be, are we?"

Kuro leapt down from Rin's shoulder and twined around his legs, and Rin could _swear_ he heard a little voice coming from the demon cat.

"This…is most certainly _not_ Exorcism Headquarters," Yukio said, and Rin heard the small quiver in his little brother's voice. "I thought the key looked different, but I thought it was just because it was _Shura's_."

A thrill ran down's Rin's back, and he gripped the hilt of his bokuto out of habit. Yukio pulled a bebe gun out of the holster on his right hip at the signal from his brother.

Everything was quiet in the dark, musty room, the boys still and breathing as lightly as they could.

_—_

_—_

_—_

"Yukio!" Rin screamed as he turned and a shadowy figure darted across his vision. "_DUCK_!"

The younger twin needed no more prompting as he crouched and immediately brought his gun up to point at, hopefully, the creatures underbelly. He shot once, twice, and the demon yelped as it soared over the boy. It landed heavily on the ground, but got up and swayed from side to side.

Rin's eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, and he could see that the shadowy figure had the form of something like a dog. He furrowed his brow and stared at the creature. It moved a little, and suddenly he felt like he was looking into its eyes.

He felt something, something primal and dark and filled with _hunger_ before Yukio had tackled him to the ground and had stabbed the creature with a pocketknife pulled out of somewhere. Rin didn't hear anything, but he could have sworn that the creature _screamed_ in agony and anger before it died.

The boys sat in the middle of the room, panting and trembling from the adrenaline rush. Kuro stood in front of them, his head swinging from side to side and his twin tails lashing back and forth.

"You okay, Rin?" Yukio breathed out, eyes flickering from dark corner to dark corner blindly. "I heard it move and you weren't doing anything—are you okay?"

Rin, hand to his forehead, nodded before he realized Yukio couldn't see him. "I'm fine. And you, four-eyes?"

Yukio bristled beside him, and the next thing Rin knew, his little brother had jabbed him in the side.

"Ow! I was just asking a question!"

The elder twin heard Yukio push up his glasses. "I'm okay. How do you suggest we get though this?"

"Um…get out?"

The scratching of claws on floorboard interrupted them, and Rin's bokuto was drawn in a flash. The practice sword collided with the creature with a thick, thunking sound, and Rin gritted his teeth as he forced the faux weapon to push the unknown assailant away.

It thumped against the wall and then against the floor, and Rin half-crouched with his back against his brother's in the silence. There were a couple rattling breaths, and then the claws scraped against the floor again. The shadow lurched towards them once more.

Rin thrust the sword forward in both hands, and the blunt end of the bokuto seemed to break something in the creature's body. With a wail, it slumped and the shadow's mass slowly faded away.

They were both quiet for a moment more, tense and alert in the darkness.

Yukio finally spoke up. "We need to have a more solid plan than that. Should we leave this room, or should we stay here? What supplies do we have at our disposal? In the case we do escape the building, should we head away from it or stay nearby in the event that Shura notices her mistake and comes for us?"

Rin's head started to hurt, and he half turned to hold a hand up in Yukio's face. "Woah woah woah, that's too much and with too big words. First things first—what now?"

The younger twin sighed and pushed Rin's hand away before adjusting his glasses. "Alright—what do you have on you?"

"Erm…" Rin patted himself with his left hand, the bokuto held loosely in his right as he tried to avoid showing signs of hearing creepy whispers in his head. "I have a pillowcase, my bokuto, my necklace, my clothing and my armor…but nothing else. Heheheh…"

"I have my two bebe guns, four extra cases of ammunition, two emergency holy water grenades, the miniature crucifix necklace made out of holly that should prove effective against goblins and hobgoblins if the need arises, my pocketknife, which is laced with trace amounts of iron, three sticks of chalk that are rather useless due to our ineffective combined knowledge of seals and arrays, and a package of emergency rations and regular water."

Rin, now totally distracted from the faint noises in the back of his head, stared at Yukio's dimly lit face with his mouth wide open. "How—Why—When—whaaaaat?"

Yukio continued with a smirk tugging on his lips. "I also, as you have pointed out, have my clothing on me as well as one of the spare burlap sacks that candles usually come in. If nothing else, it should prove heavy enough to use as a thrown distraction. As for how, it was simple to place everything within my admittedly bulky costume. Why—an Exorcist is always prepared, especially for a night such as Samhain and especially since we were thinking of going trick-or-treating. When? While you were in the bathroom and training, of course."

Now that Rin looked closely, there were a few bulges in Yukio's uniform that did not move with Yukio when he moved. Rin opened his mouth to comment when Yukio's eyes widened and he started to move downwards.

"Rin!"

The boy dropped immediately, but was slashed across the back of the head by the claws of a hobgoblin. Rin yelped and, after dropping to the floor, slapped a hand to the gashes across his skull. Strange, they didn't seem to hurt as much as they should…

A black blur used Yukio as a springboard to launch itself at the hobgoblin, hissing and spitting and yowling. If Rin concentrated, he could hear _words_.

_You jerk! That's my charge, you don't go attacking the son of Fujimoto Shiro!_

Kuro opened his mouth—Rin could see the glint of light off his teeth—and then bit down into the neck of the demon. It went rigid for a moment before disappearing, leaving Kuro to fall nimbly onto four feet.

Yukio sighed in relief. "Thank God you're here, Kuro…if nothing else, you'll help out."

Rin simply stared at the Nekotama as it sat back onto its haunches and looked at Yukio with what seemed like a deadpan expression in its glowing green eyes. _If you mean keep you both from ending up as demonic food, then yes._

The elder twin took his hand off of the back of his head and pointed at the cat with it, eyes wide and fingers bloody. "You…You _talked_!"

"Rin?"

_…You can hear me?_

"Of course I can hear you! When were you gonna tell us you can talk, huh? Like…Like Yoruichi from _Bleach_! Are you really a shape-changing human-like demon that can just change into a cat?" Rin retrieved his sword with his unoccupied right hand and scrabbled to his feet. "Or…Or are you like Blair from _Soul Eater_, actually a _cat_ that can change into a human? Please don't tell me you're like her…"

Everything was quiet for a moment.

"Rin…Kuro isn't talking. Unless they're high-level, demons usually can't talk. Even if Kuro _could_ talk, I can't hear…"Yukio trailed off thoughtfully, only absentmindedly ending his sentence. "…him."

Kuro moved off his haunches and padded towards Rin, stopping inches from his feet to sit and look up at him. _Rin, can you really hear me? Really?_

Rin blinked at the Nekotama, then at Yukio. "How the hell can you not hear that? Kuro's talking! _Talking_! Kuro's never talked before!"

_Riiiiiiin, repeat what I say: Catnip wine is the best._

"How should I know what catnip wine tastes like?" Rin asked, looking down at the cat in confusion. "'Sides, catnip wine? That sounds nasty."

Kuro yowled in joy before leaping up onto Rin's 'breastplate' and clawing his way up to Rin's shoulder. _You can hear me! You can hear me! Oh yes, you can hear me!_

"Of course I can hear you, you're screaming in my ear! I just wanna know if Yukio's gone deaf or something. Yukio?" Rin turned to his younger brother and stopped short at the expression on Yukio's face. "…Yukio?"

Yukio raised his face and smiled at Rin, the former expression of what seemed like _worry_ disappearing instantly, and Rin wondered if it was just a trick of shadow that made him see Yukio's face like that. "It's nothing. Rin, you know what Kuro is, right?"

Rin felt very much like it was a trick question, but answered with the obvious anyhow. "Uuh…a Nekotama?"

"And what is a Nekotama?"

The elder twin felt an urge and went with it. "…An awesome cat?"

"_Rin._" Yukio did not sound as amused by Rin's answer as Rin was himself.

As if on cue, there was a faint buzzing sound in the back of Rin's hearing and he stiffened. "Yukio, do you hear that?"

"Hear wha—" As the noise increased in volume, Yukio quieted for a moment. "I hear it. For your information, Kuro is technically a _demon_."

"I already knew that! Okay, what do you think they are?"

Chittering joined the buzzing noise.

Yukio's glasses flashed in the trace amounts of light. "Definitely Coal Tars. I don't want to waste one of my holy water grenades on them, but I'm not confident with my Aria…"

"Uh," Rin thought for a moment before an absolutely brilliant idea occurred to him. "Hey, how about I just flame 'em all?"

Kuro stiffened on his shoulder at the same time Yukio did jerked a little.

"_Absolutely not_."

_Rin, that's dangerous! Don't!_

For the first time, Rin wondered if they possibly knew something he didn't concerning him. For the time being, however, he put that aside and asked, "So, what do we do now?" Eventually, after about forty-five more minutes (five of which was taken up by Yukio berating Rin for forgetting he had a wristwatch on, as well as a penlight tucked into the pillowcase he'd brought along), the boys decided they were sick and tired of having the demons come to them all the time. This would have taken about ten minutes, were it not for the repeated interruptions provided by the overactive supernatural creatures who were too hungry or angry or curious for their own good. After another fifteen minutes, the boys had fended off another four surprise attacks and had retrieved as much of Yukio's spent ammunition as possible. Using Rin as a go-between, Kuro insisted on taking the lead, and it was with this that the trio left the room they'd been holed up in for the past hour and a half or so.

They would come to regret that decision.

* * *

><p>Shura glanced down at the time on her phone, fingers tapping urgently against the train seat in front of her.<p>

_11:17_

She kept thinking, kept thinking the most horrible, terrible thoughts. She thought about Yukio's mangled body, recognizable only by the glasses on his face and the numerous moles all over his body. She couldn't shake the notion that his bebe guns would be empty, whatever extra ammunition he'd brought with him scattered all over the floor from where they'd hit the demons. He would have taken down a lot with him, if he died. He was that sort of character—he'd do his best to make sure they all got out alive, and if he couldn't do that, he'd be damned if he didn't at least try.

_11:19_

She thought about Kuro, about how the cat would, if worst came to worst, die defending the two boys. If nothing else, the cat demon would be hellish to bring down, and it would take an unrelenting _swarm_ of lower-level demons to take him out. Even a higher-level demon would have a tough time with Kuro—not only had the cat been revered as a god in past times, he was also good-hearted, kind, and very, _very_ loyal. The Nekotama's loyalty to Fujimoto was great, seconded only by his loyalty to the twins—Rin in particular. If she thought about it optimistically, Kuro should be able to get the twins out of the mess alive. But…the Heian-era building had been infested for a while. It was old and rotting, which meant not all dangers presented would be demonic in origin. If Kuro tried to get bigger, he would risk bringing the entire damn building down on them all. And if the building fell, the demons would spread. If the boys and Kuro managed to flee…they would be followed. On Samhain, the hunger of the demons wasn't sated until midnight at the earliest.

_11:22_

Shura stared moodily out the window, urging the train to go faster as she thought of Rin. Because Rin was difficult—were the situation to be the direst it could be, would he be in a situation like Yukio? Would he have been devoured, flesh torn out of his limbs and bleeding into the dusty floorboards? Would he have been discovered by the demons for who he truly was and restrained as they removed those who had intruded before contacting, in some way or form, the god of Demons himself? Or…would the boy go berserk, completely unable to stop the flood except with a little flame, then more and more until he couldn't control it all and ended up burning everything up in sight?

_11:24_

_Calm down, Shura_, she thought to herself. _Those kids aren't normal, every-day kids. They've been trained for the situation, they can do this. Just think—Yukio's probably prepared for the situation, and Rin's got _something_ on him that'll help. Also, Kuro—_Kuro's _with them. Who's to say they won't get out of this alive? They're Fujimoto's kids. Rin's your student—he's gotten better. He's gotten pretty damn _good_, actually…_

Not that Rin would ever hear that from her.

And Fujimoto…Shura shuddered when she recalled the call she'd had with Fujimoto as she impatiently waited for her train to arrive.

"…_What did you say?"_

"_I said that I gave them the wrong key!" Shura said, almost hysterically. "I meant to give them the one to HQ, but I went one key too far left and gave them the bronze key! Yer know, the one to that old rotting building I'd been meaning to clean out for a while."_

"_First off, you were going to…I mean, _Headquarters?_"Fujimoto censored his own words, frustration and anger lacing his tone._

"_It was the safest place I could think of! My apartment? Too small, too poorly protected. The church? I had to get them out of there so that I could get everything under control! I thought they'd be in a place they could hunker down for a while and be safe. I'm sorry I panicked, I'm sorry I gave them the wrong key and while I know that sorry isn't cutting it, I'm doing the best I can right now! I don't have a key closer to that place than the Headquarters, and I'm taking a train from there to Northern Japan. Once off my station, I can get to the old Hall thingy quickly enough—I can get a car quickly enough, yer know." Shura tapped her foot as she tried to calm herself down._

"_It's just—give me a moment," Fujimoto said, and there was the sound of unearthly cries of anger on his end as something flame-like whooshed over the speakers. "Okay, look, it's what—nine oh five? What time did they get there?"_

_Shura cursed over the phone before saying, "Almost two hours ago! It took me about an hour and fourty minutes to clean up, and five minutes to get here, so almost two hours!"_

"…"

_Silence. Shura bounced up and down on her toes in agitation. "Come on come on come on," she whispered under her breath. "Get here already!"_

_Fujimoto cursed. "I'll see what I can do—I have a key to Hachinohei, so I'll do my best, but I don't think I can get off until later, and I know the others are all stationed further south—it's busy down here. I'll call you when I can."_

_They didn't speak, but they didn't hang up either._

_As her train started to come into the station, Shura spoke. "Look, I'm—I really didn't mean for this to happen, I…"_

_The doors to the train opened and the passengers stepped off._

"_I understand, Shura," Fujimoto said quietly, "I understand that in my head, but my heart is very much unhappy with this. Just…give me some time."_

_Shura was quiet as she stepped onto the train heading north. "All right," she said. "I can do that."_

_The call ended, and she looked at the time._

_9:09_

The call announcing that the next stop was Hachinohei overhead jerked her out of her musings, and as she pushed the button to let the conductor know that there was a passenger wanting off, she pushed her forehead against the cool material in front of her.

"_Calm down, Shura baby,_" she whispered to herself. "_Calm down, yer got it, the kids're all right and everything's gonna be fine._"

She stood and checked her phone one last time.

_11:29_

She waited, dread and hope and fear welling up in her and mixing her up so bad it was a miracle she managed to stay on her own two feet.

The train slowed, stopped to an empty station, and she moved to the door. It opened—she stepped off.

When she left the train, it was empty.

Just as she was about to step off the station and find a car that she could successfully hotwire in less than two minutes, her phone rang.

The ringtone was much different than usual. _Much_.

"_Hey, how does this thing work anyways—woah woah, is it on? Yukio, is it on?"_

"_Yes you idiot, now hurry, you don't have too much time to work with it."_

"_Umm…Umm…DON'T GIVE THE LADY BEER. EVER."_

"…_She's going to kill you."_

"_Doesn't matter, she'll delete it as soon as she finds it anyways! REMEMBER, NO BEER!"_

Shura's eye twitched as she flipped open the phone, but she didn't stop walking. "Shura here. This Shiro?"

"_Yeah. Okay, I'm getting off now—I can be at the place by about quarter 'til. You going to be there by then?"_

She thought for a moment, and as she did so, a shiny red car caught her eye. A couple of guys in Hawaiian-print T-shirts and blue jeans were climbing out of it, joking about something in English. One caught sight of her, said something to his friend, and then wolf whistled at her.

"Gimme a moment, I'm getting my ride," she said to Fujimoto, and then pulled the phone away from her ear.

"Like what yer see, _boyaasu_?" She called out in Japanese, making sure to speak the last word in halfway-recognizable English. Sure, she wasn't good with the language, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick up what pop-culture taught her.

The blond asked something of his brown-haired friend, who then replied with a laugh and a wink. The former grinned and then said something else.

"He want to ask if you want to join us," The brown haired man called out to her.

"…_Shura, what's going on?"_

"Maybe later," she called back, ignoring Fujimoto, "But could yer good, kind _boyaasu_ give me a _raidou_? I'd be happy to…_entertain_ along the way."

"…_Shura, you'd better not be doing what I think you're doing."_

The brunet laughed, his eyes crinkling up into mirthful glee. He said something quickly in English to his friend, who grinned boyishly.

Shura felt suddenly a little bad for them, but there were more important people to be thinking of. She'd make sure that they were nicely knocked out and out of the way before they got to the old building.

She put the phone back up to her ear. "Nothing's wrong, Fujimoto. I just got my ride."

"_Shura—Shura, are you doing anything illegal?_"

The woman whistled happily and cheerfully said, "_Bai-Bai!_" into the speaker.

Before Fujimoto could reply, she'd snapped the phone shut, effectively ending the call. She only glanced at the time once before she shut it off completely.

_11:37_

"So, _boyaasu_, could we go up to that old mansion ? I really wanna see the stars from there, and…nobody lives up there, if you catch my drift…"

Two swift blows and three minutes later, Shura was off on the road in a shiny red car and the two men were sitting outside the hotel, thoughtfully covered with a blanket and with a note stuffed down their shirts.

_I'll bring back the car all pretty, don't worry! Sankyuu!_

_~Shura-kitty_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

_..._

Don't kill me, there's another chapter next month!

Research point:

While there are no longer any existing examples, _Shinden-zukuri_ buildings were places built for aristocrats in the Heian period-from 784-1185. These were especially built in the tenth century, and trust me, they're huge and look complex. I was rather vague on where Rin and Yukio were for the reason that I had no time to research. From the diagram I'm looking at right now, though, Rin and Yukio were primarily in the _Shinden_ portion of the house-the sleeping quarters.

Why did I say they were in one?

...I'm not quite sure if I said that they were in one exactly, but nevertheless there are several buildings very much **like**_ Shinden-zukuri_. One famous example is the Heian Palace and the Phoenix Hall. I'm still rather vague on this kind of architecture (seeing as I only had a short time to look this up), but...yeah. I tried to find the equivalent of an old Japanese mansion and found it.

Other than that, do I think you want a flash of the next chapter?

Yes I do.

Can I provide it?

You bet.

...just don't kill me please.

_**PREVIEW:**_

_Rin laughed, and then coughed out the blood that forced its way up his throat and into his mouth. "I don't wanna die, Yukio."_

_"Shut up," Yukio said, voice trembling from the exertion of trying to support his elder brother. "Shut up. I'm not leaving you and you're not leaving me. We're brothers, right? We support each other. We support each other even if the whole world is against us."_


	5. Zähl die Minuten

**A/N: ** AND AT LAST, WHAT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR ALL MONTH!

On one hand, I was very very relaxed about writing this month-I have about one and a half pages of the next chapter written. (sweatdrops) I also got a lot of homework this month, so yeah...Next month, with Winter Break, should be okay...

**carol:**Thank you so much! (blushes) And yes, here's your chapter.

To those I haven't replied to...I'll do it after I update the chapter, but it might be tomorrow...it's now after midnight where I am, and I need to get up early and clean and do homework and try to get presents out and I have to go to school to do something (egh) and Goooooood why?

_**Last Time**: Rin and Yukio ask Shura if she'll go trick or treating with them. In the middle of refusing them, the church is attacked-Shura had forgotten to up the wards around the building. She mistakenly gives Rin and Yukio the key to an old, haunted Japanese-style mansion, and only realizes this after taking down the invading demons. On Rin and Yukio's end, they've been attacked sporadically by different demons. So far, they've reached a few conclusions: One, Rin can have his stupid moments. ("How about I flame them?"). Two, Yukio is the Definition of Boy Scout Preparedness. (Two bebe guns, four extra cases of ammunition, two emergency holy water grenades, the miniature crucifix necklace made out of holly, a pocketknife laced with trace amounts of iron, three sticks of chalk (which are rather useless, but okay), a package of emergency rations, regular water, and a spare burlap sack.) Three, Kuro can talk. ("_…You can hear me?") Four, Rin is not quite normal. (Normal boys aren't exorcists, sure, but normal EXORCISTS don't hear the cries and screams and moans and groans of demons, and they can't sense when the aforementioned demons are near).__

_Updated: November 25, 2011_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Five:<span>_ Zähl die Minuten _

(Count the Minutes)

.

According to Rin's watch, they'd managed to beat down most, if not all, of the demons up until eleven that night. By then, they were tired, cranky, and sluggish enough to let Kuro badger them into sitting down and actually eating those rations Yukio had been smart enough to bring along. There they'd been, finally having something to eat and drink, when one of the bigger, more difficult demons had come across them. Rin had barely enough time to swallow his ration bar hastily and gulp down half of his water before the thing had crawled into the room they'd stopped in.

It was wrapped in bandages, and looked like it was old leather stitched together with medical thread. The demon had no lower jaw—the drool that would have been in its mouth dripped noisily onto the floor, and its tongue hung loosely. The muscle moved with every lurching step it took.

Kuro stepped in front of the boys and arched his back, stating without words that _it'd better get back if it didn't want to get hurt._

The creature halted, and cocked its head curiously. It seemed to exhale, and suddenly Rin could hear its voice—scratchy, raw and grating on the nerves.

_**Why are you protecting them? Why are you protecting those who invaded our haven? Why do you not let us eat?**_

Rin clapped his hands to his ears, but amazingly enough he didn't attract the attention of the monster, who simply waited with dark, lightless eyes.

_They are my charges!_ Kuro snarled _They are my friends, those who I will never abandon. I don't go back on my word, and I promised the greatest man on earth that I would protect them with my life. LEAVE._

"Rin? Rin, what's going on?"

The elder twin trembled as the monster spoke, the eleven-year-old part of him taking hold and rendering him unable to move or speak or do anything.

_**They are food. They are nothing. If you do not let us eat…WE WILL TAKE THEM BY FORCE. You leave, Nekotama, if you wish to live.**_

_Never_.

"Yukio," Rin choked out, "Yukio, get the holy water ready. It's gonna attack, it wants to eat us and _it's so strong_."

He felt Yukio take one glance at him, and right as the creature started to move, Yukio had pulled the first holy water grenade out and had pulled the pin. Right as the monster raised one triple-jointed arm to smash Kuro into pieces, Yukio had thrown it straight at the monster's face.

Right as the monster started to bring that arm down, Kuro sprang away and the grenade exploded.

When the water touched his skin, it hurt. It stung, it itched, but it didn't do much to him other than elicit a yelp and force him to get out of the way. The pain jump-started his brain, made him think and move once more.

He sprang away from the monster once, twice, and gave himself enough distance to avoid the creature. A quick glance at his watch showed that it was only six past eleven.

He didn't know when Shura would arrive, only that she would. He trusted his teacher to come after them, no matter how far away they were. She may be a beer-loving, overly-scantily clad woman who took far too much joy in scaring the life out of him, but she was his teacher.

With these sorts of things, he trusted her.

_**That…THAT HURT!**_ The beast roared as it pawed at its face heavily with one handless arm. _**THAT HURT! WHO DID IT?**_

"Yukio, it's not dead yet, it's angry and it hurts, we've gotta be real careful now."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yukio give a short nod. "I'm not quite sure what it is, but if it's wrapped like that, it's got to be at least a little susceptible to light, or fire, or _something_."

Rin couldn't resist the jab. "What, the great genius Okumura Yukio doesn't remember something? Oh, no, the world is ending!"

He saw Yukio's eye twitch. "Shut up. This isn't the time anyways."

"…Fine. I understand." The monster moved at them out of the corner of his eye, and Rin rolled out of the way, lashing out with a sandaled foot along the way. He caught it on what could be called the right knee, and it wobbled a little before its arm blurred into motion. The only reason he avoided being hurt was because Kuro had suddenly appeared and dragged him out of the way.

"Moves from place to place slowly," Yukio intoned, "but has tremendous arm speed. Likely has poor vision and good hearing and sense of smell, so if you can be quiet that would be good. Aim for the head."

Rin frowned and jumped up over a swinging appendage before swinging the bokuto down onto the creature's head with all his strength. There was a mighty crack, and the creature thudded down onto the ground.

The elder twin fell to the floorboards heavily. They creaked, cracked, and then splintered, causing the boy to fall through the floor to the level below.

"Rin!"

_Rin!_

The descent was short, but upon landing the air was knocked out of him and he couldn't breathe for a few moments. He struggled to push himself up, and managed to cough himself into wheezing. Kuro was down beside him in a flash, butting at his face and walking around his head in a nervous fit.

_Rin? Rin, is everything okay? Why can't you breathe right?_

"Rin? Rin, are you okay?" Yukio's face appeared in the hole.

"…fine…" Rin whispered, and moved a hand lazily. He smiled a little, but as a shadow appeared behind Yukio, the smile dropped off his face. "Yukio, watch out!"

Yukio had no time to move. The arm swung down, and his younger brother was slammed through the floorboards above him. Rin could do nothing but watch.

The creature leapt down through the large hole that had been created, and its tongue slapped upwards onto the roof of its 'mouth' wetly.

_**The one with the glasses…he hurt me. He hurt me with that water, HE HURT ME.**_

Rin forced his aching muscles to move, forced himself to drag a still, limp Yukio out of the way as the monster raised an arm once more.

"Kuro," He wheezed out, "Kuro, can you get rid of the things ahead of us? We gotta get away from this guy, we gotta get away."

_No problem, Rin!_ Kuro said. _But…can you carry him?_

"Yukio?" Rin forced a laugh out, and focused on dragging himself forward one step at a time as quickly as he could without tripping. "He…he weighs nothing."

His brother's glasses were cracked and crooked on his nose, the blood trickling down from somewhere in his hairline beading over one of the arms. Yukio's left arm was bent at an awkward angle at the elbow, and in that darker patch of material, something white glinted. The holly crucifix swung from his neck, and one bebe gun lay on the floor behind them, cracked and broken from the fall.

"He weighs nothing at all."

Another glance at the watch proved it to be ten past eleven. They had to get through this alive, Rin thought as he half-ran out of the room, ducking to avoid the thrashing arm that slammed through the delicate walls of the old building. They had to stay alive until Shura came, until maybe even their father came.

_We have to stay alive_,Rin thought desperately as he kicked an attacking goblin out of the way viciously and Kuro batted down several Coal Tars that were threatening to swarm. _We have to._

With Yukio draped over his back, his penlight clenched between his teeth and his bokuto held tightly in one hand, Rin made his way through the house as quickly as he could, the dangerous presence always behind him, the darkness always stretching on before him.

The every minute lasted what seemed to be an eternity, and every demon they encountered seemed to be pushing them further back towards their pursuer.

_Rin, Rin, if we can get outside I can transform. I can get bigger so that we don't destroy the house and hurt ourselves, and so that I can get rid of the demon following us._

"Okay…Okay, do you know where outside is?" Rin panted out, tiredly batting a few Coal Tars out of the way and watching Kuro deal with the larger demons as efficiently as he could.

_That's the problem—this place stinks too much of rot and decay. We… we need to go up._

Rin paused only a moment to look up at the ceiling, and he scowled. "I don't think we're getting there."

Despite himself, he glanced down at his watch, the watch with the cracked face that worked despite the break.

_11:35_

Then the room exploded around them, and it was all Rin could do to shift himself so that Yukio landed on top of him. The penlight was wrenched from his teeth, but he kept a tight hold on his bokuto.

_RIN! YUKIO!_

For the second time that night, Rin couldn't breathe, and he could only watch as the creature reached down with its one good hand to grab his brother. He gathered up what air he could in his lungs and coughed out, "Kuro…get Yukio…"

The Nekotama didn't hesitate, and the black blur darted in between the outstretched hand and the boy on top of Rin. However, the demon was having none of that.

_**He hurt me. Don't interfere.**_

The hand blurred and suddenly Kuro was slammed against the other wall. The demon cat slid limply down, and a few chunks of rotting wood followed, raining down on the still, black form of the twin's guardian.

Rin wanted to scream for the cat, but something inside him analyzed the situation and made him pull Yukio out of the way yet again, made him put his body in between his brother's and the beast's and set his bokuto at the ready. It hurt in his shoulder blade to move his left arm, and his right ankle was throbbing. He didn't dare look at his watch.

This entire night felt like a nightmare, felt as though it was a horrible, horrible dream that couldn't ever be called reality, and every minute counted lasted for an impossibly long time.

_**…how curious,**_ the scratching, grating voice came._** Why so much for this weakling? Why does the Nekotama and this other human keep me from my revenge?**_

"…Shut…Up." Rin panted out. "Shut up and _keep away from my brother_."

Before the demon had the time to digest the fact that a puny little human boy was talking back to him, Rin had staggered forward, crouched, and leapt, his bokuto ready to stab the creature in one of its dark, eyeless sockets.

He screamed as he thrust the bokuto forward, but the wood splintered and broke upon contact with the creature. Rin couldn't do anything, couldn't do _anything_ as he was knocked aside as well.

Rin gave a high-pitched whine as a large splinter of wood lodged itself through his upper right leg upon landing, and something in his side cracked painfully. Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain, and he had to lay there for a moment, only a moment, to catch his breath and summon the will to pull himself off the offending item.

He turned his head, and caught sight of the time.

_11:41_

A weak sounding gurgle came from the corner, and his head snapped to the side only to see Yukio held in the monster's grip.

_**I'll break you. I'll break you slowly and then I'll eat you. I'll make you pay for hurting me**_.

Rin screamed as he jerked his leg off of the piece of wood, he breathed out shallowly as he lurched forward onto two feet, stumbling forward, and he sucked in one giant, pain-filled breath as he stumbled back a step, the strap on one sandal broken and useless. Weaponless, he lowered himself into a charging stance and spit the blood, as well as a tooth out of his mouth.

He trembled from fear, from exhaustion, and from anger. The back of his head throbbed from his forgotten wound from earlier, and his right hand tingled from the force that had traveled through the blade of his bokuto up through the hilt. He was hurt, he was tired, and sometimes when he breathed too deep he saw white spots in his vision, but that was his little brother and he wasn't going to let Yukio die. _He wasn't_.

The eleven year old turned angry eyes to the monster in front of him, and with a high, wild scream, he charged.

_**They never learn, they never stop. Pesky flies, why don't they stop?**_

It swung its handless arm again, but this time, Rin was prepared. A spark lighted itself in his eyes, a dangerous spark that, if given time to smolder would be turned into a bright blue flame.

He tracked the motion, and jumped. At such a fast speed, the monster was unable to change its velocity quickly enough, and Rin continued on unimpeded, staggering a little upon landing because of his bad ankle, but nevertheless moving forward. He snagged the pendant from Yukio's chest, snapped the cord binding it around his brother's neck, and then stabbed it into the monster's hand.

It was so surprised that it let go, and both Rin and Yukio fell heavily to the ground. It was quiet for a moment before it screamed in pain again. Rin lay there, chest heaving and limbs burning and ankle aching as the monster screamed and screamed and screamed.

Something shifted beside him, and Rin watched as Yukio, still half-unconscious, slowly sat up, pulled the other holy water grenade out of his pocket, and fumbled before fully pulling out the pin.

"Shut. Up."

The boy lofted it the short distance up to the monster, and it exploded yet again. Rin ignored the sting the water presented, and instead chose to smile tiredly as the creature cried out, increasingly quiet with every scream until it faded into nothing.

Trust Yukio to be able to keep his wits about him while half-asleep enough to finish off a giant demonic monster.

They lay there for a short while, breathing heavily and with eyes half-lidded in pain, before Rin forced himself to move over to where Kuro had been thrown by the creature. He inched forward with the help of his left leg and right arm, instinctually trying to avoid further injuring the other two limbs. It was slow, and by the time he reached the Nekotama, the time read _11: 44_.

"Kuro…" he whispered hoarsely, "Kuro, wake up. Kuro, can you wake up?" He prodded the demon cat gently.

Kuro whimpered, and Rin was thankful enough for that small sign of life. He painstakingly pulled Kuro onto his chest, pushed himself up onto one trembling leg, and staggered towards his brother.

It was quiet, quieter than it had been all night.

"…Yukio?"

His brother looked up at him through half-closed eyes. "…my arm hurts. Is there…is there something wrong with it?"

"It looks like it's broken," Rin replied, and to his dismay, tears welled up in his eyes. "You…you scared me, Yukio. You scared me so much."

Yukio's lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Now you know how I feel, right?"

"I'd punch you if you weren't hurt," Rin sniffled. "I hope you know that."

A dry chuckle escaped his younger brother's throat. "Yeah. But…we've got each other's backs, right?"

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a short moment more before they heard it again—the scraping, thumping sound reminiscent of the monster they had just barely defeated.

"Rin, what time is it?"

The elder twin wiped the tears from his eyes, and brought his right wrist up to view his watch. "Eleven forty-nine."

"Samhain is almost over…"Yukio breathed, and struggled to get up. "If we…If we can last until midnight, we might make it…"

Rin laughed, and then coughed out the blood that forced its way up his throat and into his mouth. "I don't wanna die, Yukio. I'm only eleven."

Yukio smirked. "Don't say those things, Rin. We're not gonna die."

The elder twin watched in dismay as the younger balanced himself on two wobbling legs, and watched how he pulled out his spare bebe gun and reload it with the last of his ammunition. As Yukio looked up at him through his cracked, bloodied glasses, and straightened them with the hand that held the gun in a trembling grasp, Rin felt something in him strengthen.

"Okay," Rin said, more determined than ever. "We're not gonna die."

He knelt and gently placed Kuro down in the corner before picking up an appropriately sized length of wood and ignored how using it would likely put splinters in his hands. If nothing else, he had a weapon in his right hand.

The seconds ticked by, and Rin looked down at his watch again.

"What time?"

"Eleven fifty."

Yukio nodded grimly as the second monster came into view. "Think we can last ten minutes?"

"We _will_ last ten minutes, you hear me?" Rin said with more confidence than he felt. He gripped the length of wood with his left hand and ignored the pain lancing through his back. If his little brother could stop himself from feeling the pain in his broken left arm, then he could ignore some pitiful little muscle pain.

_**…This is what got rid of the other? **_

Rin didn't wince at the grating voice. He did nothing, only glowered at the creature with all the strength he could muster. It drew back in surprise.

_**Was that…Was that a **_**spark**_**?**_

"Yukio, what's the plan?"

His little brother stood as tall as he could, and stared stonily at the demon before them. "If we assume it has the same weaknesses as the other, it should be slow to react and have quick arm motions. Our biggest problem is going to be dodging—we should take the offensive before it can. Distract it as much as you can—I'll try to hit it as much as I can. We could, theoretically, beat it into dying."

The elder twin grinned. "Got it. Ready?"

"Go."

Rin limped forward as quickly as he could, and, with all the force he could muster, swung the stick of wood across his body. It cracked and splintered and then broke against the creature's thick arm, but not without doing damage—the splintered wood stuck out of the demon's appendage, and there was a twin crack that did not sound like breaking wood.

It howled, and raised the other arm to attack, but the hand on the end was hit hard with several bebe gun pellets, and it stopped in confusion. This allowed Rin enough time to take up one of the other splinters of wood and shove it into the chest of the monster. It went in with a sickening, crunching squelch, and something dark and foul spurted from the wound as a horribly scratchy scream rent the air. Rin let go of the impromptu weapon and then limped back two steps, intent on escaping.

Unfortunately, he was seized around the middle by a grotesque, knobbly hand and pulled up to the creature's face, where it studied him curiously for a moment. Rin struggled and struggled.

"Let him go!" Yukio screamed, and the gun's trigger was pulled once, twice, thrice, but the bullets that hit the monster's face did nothing to stop it.

_**…you are not a normal human.**_

The grip tightened on him, and Rin's eyes bulged. His mouth opened, and he coughed up blood. _This is not good, this isn't good…_ he thought desperately.

_**You have a demonic spark in your eyes, boy. Are you what I think you are?**_

"LET HIM GO!"

Rin panted and raised a shaking, trembling fist. "I'm…" In the reflection of his watch, he saw Yukio's dirty, tear streaked face.

"_I'm an Exorcist, and you'd better let me go!_" Rin's eyes widened in anger, and he brought his fist down with all the force he could muster. The spark in his eye smoldered.

Upon contact, Rin's clenched hand burst in to bright blue flames, and the monster's hand burst into flames. The demon's grip lessened, and Rin managed to squirm out of captivity—as he dropped to the ground, he focused and focused on _make the flames go out_.

The blue fire licked the air for a moment more than he anticipated, but dissipated, leaving only silence in the air. Rin thudded limply against the ground, feeling more tired and lifeless than he had all night. He shuddered and coughed and curled up into a ball, shivering from the sudden cold he felt.

He knew without a doubt that he was not going to move again tonight, even as he heard or felt or _whatever_ other scratching clawing noises that signaled the arrival of more demons, which were attracted, he suspected, by the brilliant blue flames he'd called into existence.

"Rin!" Yukio scrambled over, moving faster than Rin had due to his relatively undamaged legs. "Rin!"

His vision shook, and his head pounded. "Yukio…Yukio get away, he's gonna…"

But Yukio had put his determined eyes on, and once Yukio had made a decision, it was hell to try to make him change it. The younger twin crouched, and with his one good arm, pulled Rin over onto his back.

"Yukio…"

"Shut up," Yukio said, voice trembling from the exertion of trying to support his elder brother. "Shut up. I'm not leaving you and you're not leaving me. We're brothers, right? We support each other. We support each other even if the whole world is against us."

_**THAT IS NO HUMAN,**_ the creature roared, something unreadable in its voice. _**No human can hear demons. No human can summon fire. No human could **_**move **_**with those wounds. No...no, that is—**_

The paper screens on the opposite side of the room were kicked in, and through the long tunnel of blasted-through corridors and rooms and doors, there was moonlight.

"Get the hell away from them, yer god-damned pile of stinking _sh—_"

Rapid gunfire interrupted the feminine voice, and it tore into the monster behind the boys before the demon could even scream.

The sudden silence was only broken by the thud of a body against the ancient floorboards, and Rin turned to regard the newcomers with a small smile on his face.

_I knew they'd come._

* * *

><p>They were bloody, they were hurt and they looked exhausted beyond anything she could have safely provided, but <em>they were alive<em>.

A weak mewl floated up from the right, and when she looked down and out she saw Kuro's battered, barely conscious form where it had been gently placed in a corner. She sent a look at Fujimoto beside her, and he looked so calm it was as though he didn't care that his sons had been bruised and broken. But she'd been at the Paladin's side for the majority of her life—she could read the worry and anger and sorrow swirling in his eyes as he looked over the boys.

Shura walked over to the Nekotama and picked him up gingerly, shifting him so that the demon was propped against her chest. The rapid pace of footfalls behind her told her that Fujimoto had already run to his children, and she was fine with that. She turned, carefully picked her way over the rubble and the smeared blood and water stains on the floor, and then crouched down by Fujimoto's side once she was there.

The Paladin was clutching both of the children, one hand pressing Yukio's head to his chest, the other carefully holding Rin up to lean against him. From her view, she couldn't see the man's face, but his frame was silently shaking, and she could imagine that he was crying. Something scurried out of the corner of her vision, and she silently acknowledged that the night wasn't over as she gently placed Kuro in the middle of their circle.

"I'll take care of the small fry, Shiro," she said softly. "Yer just make sure yer know they're alive, okay?"

He didn't reply, but Rin's head shifted up and she was suddenly looking into half lidded, pain-fogged blue eyes.

"I knew you'd come," he said right before coughing, and a small trickle of blood dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. "I knew you'd come."

"..How?"

"You're my teacher," he said quietly, "'Course you'd come."

Before she could move away, his right hand reached up and a bloody finger poked her in the cheek before it fell back down to his side. She saw the splinters lodged in that hand, though, and saw how his fingernails were a little ripped and caked with filth. His armor was still hanging off of him in a mess of yarn and cardboard shapes, oddly enough, though they were splattered with blood and dented and torn.

Something caught in her throat, and she stood abruptly and turned. "Got that, Shiro? You keep them alive."

The Paladin stayed silent as Shura stalked away, her hand held over the seal on her chest. She looked at the approaching horde of demons through her bangs, and her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"_Devour the eight princesses…_"

The demons leapt at her, leapt at the children behind her, and she snarled out the last part of the incantation savagely.

"_And slay the Serpent!"_

There was a primal, dark enjoyment in tearing through the demons with her blade, in hearing how the gunfire behind her shredded through them. But there was also self-hatred and guilt that flowed through her very being, and the images of Rin's foggy eyes and Yukio's broken arm and Kuro's limp, weak body stayed with her throughout the entire night.

Her cell phone beeped once, twice, and it was midnight.

She slashed through a goblin and whirled to see some shadowy mass tower over Fujimoto. Shura sucked in a quick breath to scream at him, but the man simply aimed behind him and fired once, then twice, effectively killing it before it could attempt anything.

The man then shifted Rin onto his back and Yukio into his arms, Kuro cradled in the space between Yukio's stomach and Fujimoto's. He stood, the Paladin, and his face, turned away from her, was unreadable.

"We need to leave."

Shura nodded, the _guiltworryit'smyfault_ washing over her and leaving her voice without any traces of teasing or joy. "The church?"

Fujimoto Shiro only nodded, and she saw his jaw clench in the dim light. A couple of hobgoblins rose over him, and he whispered something unintelligible. They were destroyed quickly, and the display of power had the other demons hesitating.

"All right, let's find a door with a keyhole," she said, and bit her thumb before pulling a piece of paper out of her jacket. "Get out here, yer little snot."

The snake slithered into existence and looked up at her with slitted yellow eyes. "Are you doubting, Kirigakure Shura?"

Her eyes widened for only a moment, but then they narrowed. "Are yer challenging me, Unagi?"

It was quiet for a moment, but the demon averted its gaze and flicked out its tongue pompously. "Only if you think I am."

"I hate yer sometimes," Shura said, eye twitching. "Anyways. We need a door with a keyhole—and _not_ one of those dinky cupboards, a _real_ door with a keyhole. Got it?"

"Of course, Kirigakure Shura," the snake said, and it started to slither off. "Simply follow."

She started to, but stopped. "Shiro, do yer…do you want me to take one of them? It looks a little…heavy."

"…It's fine. They weigh nothing." Fujimoto said, his eyes shadowed. He took one step forward, and then another, until he'd passed her and left her unable to do anything to help.

"Shiro…" Shura said quietly, and shook her head. If he didn't want help, she understood—she'd lost his trust, for one, and for another…the man needed to know they were still there, that they were safe. If he felt they were safest in his arms, then that was completely natural.

She understood, she told herself as she carefully walked around the Paladin and his children. She understood that.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt, she admitted, keeping the slithering green length in sight and slicing through the weak demons that assaulted her. Because it hurt a lot, having lost the trust Fujimoto had placed in her.

The trek through the broken building seemed to take forever, but it didn't take much time at all before they stood before a tall, albeit rickety old European wardrobe stashed in a corner of a room filled with such non-Asian items. Shura stalked forward, jammed the key, still attached to her keyring, into the keyhole, and then turned to appraise her summon.

"Yer can leave now," she said. "I know it takes a lot outta yer to stop yerself from attacking me, and when I call yer on a night like this…it's even worse."

Yellow eyes widened only a hair's breadth, and only for a split second. The snake nodded its head once, and then faded into nothing as it crossed the weakening boundary to Gehenna.

Shura didn't stare at where the snake had disappeared, even though she certainly felt the urge to. She simply turned the key to the right, and then pulled open the door. "Yer go first, Shiro. I gotta take care of something really quick."

The Paladin nodded at her, and tightened his grip on his children before stepping over the bottom of the wardrobe and disappearing into the trashed living room of the church. Shura shut the door behind them, pulled the key out of the lock, and then silently made her way back through the winding corridors to where she and Fujimoto had forced their way into the building.

At this point, she didn't care that this was private property. She didn't care that this was supposed to be a place she could take out her frustrations properly. All she cared about was that this place was where Rin and Yukio had been hurt, that _she_ had been the one to lead them there, and that she needed to destroy something.

In the local paper the next day, it would be written that the old building about twenty kilometers from the town itself had mysteriously burned to the ground. It would write that the police suspected deliberate arson, and that, oddly enough, there was a red convertible with a pink bow tied around the steering wheel about one kilometer away from the fire, with a note on the driver's seat that simply said, 'Thanks for the ride'.

* * *

><p>There was a beeping noise, and it was annoying him to no end. He tried to raise a hand, but it felt like he was trying to move it through molasses. His brow furrowed, and he tried again.<p>

Nothing happened.

His eyes were hard to open, but after a minute or two he succeeded enough to see white above him. His forehead crinkled. That wasn't right—he slept on the bottom bunk, it was always brown wood above him, not white plaster…

The boy stayed still for a moment, and then two, and then forced his eyes the rest of the way open. He had to blink a few times to clear the grit away, but once he had it was relatively simple to survey his surroundings.

Once again, the ceiling was white, and this was so wrong he knew that he wasn't home. It was smooth and he could see where the paint was brushed on, in even, parallel strokes. The ceiling at home, when he saw it, had been painted a sky blue, and they'd painted it in untidy spirals and lines and the like. When their father had seen it he'd laughed and shook his head despairingly. He felt a smile tug at his lips, and then turned his head to the right.

There was a bed next to his, all white and steel gray and a mess of black hair propped on a pillow. Two moles dotted the cheek of the other person, and the boy frowned. What was his brother doing in bed still? Yukio was never asleep when he was awake. What had…

Rin narrowed his eyes and then winced as he remembered what had happened the last night.

Oh. Right. That.

Yukio's right arm, bandaged and placed in a cast, had been lain across his chest—for good reason, Rin thought in a distracted fashion. Strange as it seemed, Yukio tended to lay on his arms when he slept a lot. He always complained about that habit in the morning, always said that his limbs were numb and he wished he would stop doing that.

The elder twin mentally shook his head. He didn't know why he was thinking of the most random things, why he was connecting terrible facts to happier memories, but he was. Maybe he'd been hit on the head too many times that night.

Rin's eyes widened, and his right hand shot up to the back of his head, but he couldn't move his fingers well. He brought the hand down to eye-level, and examined the bandages that wrapped around his hand and fingers.

"Why…" he said, but it sounded thick and strange in his mouth, so he quit speaking. Besides, there was nobody there to listen.

He stared at his hand and thought about what could have hurt it so bad that he needed it wrapped, and then remembered how his bokuto broke. He also remembered how he'd used a broken piece of wood to attack that second monster, and what had happened upon impact.

That, once he thought about it, hadn't really hurt more than a vague understanding of _I've got a forest sticking out of my hand_. He'd been hurting more in other places, honestly.

With narrowed eyes, he tried moving his left arm experimentally and let out a gurgled, stifled scream at the attempt. Tears in his eyes, he bit down on his lip and tried it again, only to let out a whimper.

There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he wasn't going to be doing much heavy training any time soon. Then again, from how Yukio looked, his little brother wasn't going to be doing anything like that in the next few weeks either, so if that's how the cookie crumbled, that was fine.

Rin gave up on counting his injuries—they'd heal when they healed, after all. It didn't matter that he'd got them, either, because if he was forced to choose between being tortured or hurt or torn to pieces and letting his brother have the same done to him, he'd gladly choose the former.

…now that he thought about it, breathing still sorta hurt. Then again, with how many times he'd been thrown into walls, he wasn't too surprised.

Instead of cataloguing how hurt he was, he turned his head back to his little brother and looked him up and down. Frowning, he reflected that he didn't look too bad, but he couldn't be sure about that until he saw Yukio's entire body.

He thought about not getting up and not stressing himself, but Yukio's tear stained face and blood-soaked arm with the gleaming white something sticking out of it superimposed itself over the image of Yukio laying in bed.

To hell with not exerting himself, he thought grimly. He needed to make sure his little brother was okay, was as well off as he was or better off.

Rin struggled into a sitting position, quietly wriggling and squirming himself up so that he could swing his legs off the bed, but found himself a little tangled up. For the first time, he noticed the needle inserting itself into the crick of his elbow. The boy followed the tubing extending from that needle with his eyes up to the bag of clear _something_ hanging off of a rack by his bed. He'd seen them in films all the time, when the main character was hurt or when _somebody_ was hurt, but he wasn't sure if it was water or some sort of pain-numbing drug…

He'd never been in a hospital like this before.

The boy bit the inside of his lip lightly, eyes narrowed contemplatively at the needle. Should he pull it out or shouldn't he? How upset would people be when he did, but how high would the rewards be? Would the nurses and doctors and whoever was looking after him be alerted if he started moving a lot?

He stared at the needle, brow furrowed in a challenge.

The needle stared back, and glinted mockingly at him simply to spite the boy.

Just as he'd decided that, in his quest to find out if Yukio was okay, the removal of this intrusion was completely justifiable and made a move to pull it out, something shifted by his bedside.

Sheepish, the elder twin looked up into the eyes of his father and offered a little, '_please don't be mad at me, I wasn't doing anything wrong_' grin. His father raised his eyebrows at him.

"I hope you weren't thinking of taking that out," he said dryly, and looked pointedly at the bandaged hand hovering over the equipment. Rin's sheepish smile widened and he slowly pulled his hand away from the needle.

"'C—Course not," he rasped out, and cleared his throat. "'Course not, why would I?"

The raised eyebrows raised even further, were that possible. "Because you're Rin, and you always find ways to get into trouble."

Rin took offense to this. "Not always! Trouble finds me, not the other way around!" He would have pointed an arm at Fujimoto to make his point, but his left was out of commission and his right…that was just uncomfortable.

Fujimoto chuckled a little, and Rin noticed that behind the glasses his father wore, there were bags under his eyes and a permanent wrinkle in his forehead. All in all, the Paladin looked…older.

"…Dad? Are you okay?"

His father looked taken aback at this question. "Of course I'm fine! I should be asking you that, but…" Fujimoto looked down at his lap, and Rin followed his gaze to see the manila folder of papers there. "I've got the medical reports."

Rin huffed and stuck out his bottom lip, his cheeks bulging comically. "Shut up, Dad, you aren't fine. You haven't slept, have you?"

"You," Fujimoto reached out and pinched Rin's nose good-naturedly, shaking it a little before releasing, "are an observant little snot, aren't you?"

"Quit it," Rin whined, rubbing his nose awkwardly with his right hand, "that's mean."

At the sight of his hand, something flashed across Fujimoto's vision, but Rin chose not to comment on it, because he wasn't sure he could deal with that kind of raw, adult emotion properly.

"Hey, hey, you said you've got the medical reports, right?" It was easier to form the words now, and though they still felt heavier than normal and were a little slurred, it was better than not speaking at all.

"…I do."

"Can I see Yukio's?" Rin asked bluntly.

Fujimoto cast a dubious glance at Rin's bandaged hand. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, but I think I can give you a short report," he said quietly, and then opened the folder to shuffle through the papers in it.

"He's got a broken arm that should take a while to heal—a good six months, maybe more, especially as the radius was broken and forced through the skin. There's a fracture in his skull, so he's going to have to be careful with that for a while. It's probably going to leave a small scar, right by the hairline on the right side of his forehead. There's a small crack in his right ulna as well—he seems to have fallen very heavily on his right arm. He's going to have to take it very easy with that arm. Yukio also suffered from some fractured ribs, various bruises and some tooth marks on his hip, but other than that, he's fine. He escaped fairly lightly from the ordeal, all things considered. If we'd arrived any later, though, it's likely that he—"

"That's good," Rin interrupted, not wanting to hear his father entertain thoughts of 'what if', and then thought a little. "Wait wait wait, how's Kuro? He got thrown into a wall too, so how's Kuro?"

Fujimoto's lips quirked into a smile, and he leaned forward in his chair. It didn't look too comfortable, Rin thought as he frowned at the lack of cushions.

"Kuro's fine," Fujimoto said, "He'll heal up, good as new, in a few days. He's a demon, a Nekotama—his rate of healing is accelerated from those of humans."

Rin sighed in relief. "That's good. That's really good."

The Paladin hesitated, but continued talking. "What I want to talk about, Rin, is how you are."

"I'm good, right?" Rin said. "I don't feel much pain at all!"

"That's because you've had painkiller pumped into you every three hours," Fujimoto said bluntly, "And the last time was about fifteen minutes ago."

Rin opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "Oh."

"Oh indeed," Fujimoto said, and something angry contorted his features for a moment, but Rin couldn't read much into it because once that moment had passed, so had the anger. "Rin, you know that your right ankle is twisted, right?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, it hurt."

"You continued to use it, though, which tore the ligaments more. Becau—Miraculously, they seem to be healing fine, but if you'd used the foot any more than you had, you might not be able to walk right again. The puncture wound in your upper leg ended up slicing through a large part of your hamstring muscle and it scraped the bone there. It's a little infected, so it may take a while to heal.

"Your right hand was, as the doctor put it, _hell_ to pull all of the splinters out of. It took around two hours of careful work, and the skin and muscles are going to need time to heal—you're lucky the other hand had only trace amounts of wood in it that were easy to dig out."

Rin looked to the side and let out a disgruntled sound. Homework was going to get _that_ much harder to do, dammit, because if his right hand was out of commission, his left was going to have to pick up the slack.

"Rin, look at me."

He looked into the stern eyes of his father and felt the disgruntlement fall away. "…what?"

"That's not all. Rin, you have several broken ribs and your lung was punctured because of this. You've had _surgery_, you've had to be cut up and stitched back together in order to make sure you didn't choke to death. Your trapezius muscles—the ones by your shoulder blades—were over-extended and are torn—not too badly, but bad enough that you can't even _move_ that arm. You shouldn't even try to for a week or two, and even then you have to go through therapy to make sure that the muscles don't waste away. If I have to tie that arm to your chest, I _will_. In addition, your brachioradialus, which is the muscle in your lower arm, is a little over-used and should take a few days to heal.

"Lastly, you've got some gashes at the back of your head, and you suffered some serious energy loss from whatever you did during the fight. Your immune system was down for a while—thankfully, you didn't catch anything, but the risk was great."

Rin looked at his father with what he hoped was an unimpressed expression, but he was astounded on the inside by how much he'd been hurt over the night. Yukio had, he supposed, been lucky—he'd been out for a portion of the fight, and so wasn't nearly as hurt as he could have been. But that was a good thing. Better Rin than Yukio, the elder twin thought.

He didn't realize he'd voiced that thought aloud until his father stood abruptly.

"Rin! _Don't_ say that! _Don't ever_ say that!"

The boy was surprised that he'd been heard, but even more surprised that his father had reacted so violently. "Why? It's the truth, it's what I think! Yukio's built weaker than I am, we both know that! It'll be easier for me to get over this than Yukio!"

"That doesn't mean you should be hurt this bad!" Fujimoto cried, and sat down as suddenly as he'd stood. "That doesn't mean you should be injured so horribly…You're _eleven_."

He looked so tired in that moment, slouching over with his hands over his forehead. He looked so much different from the normal Fujimoto that laughed and teased and reprimanded him for beating up the boy who was torturing that poor alley dog the other day. He looked _weary_ and _mortal_ and _old_, and Rin did not like that thought.

That didn't mean that he was going to shut up, because he felt like Fujimoto needed to hear what he thought.

"Dad," he said quietly, "Dad, I know. I know I'm eleven, I know that I'm kinda young to be fighting and all that…I pay attention to others at school. But y'know, Yukio's eleven too, and he's already an Exorcist. He's a good one too. But if there are demons out there who want to hurt me and _people_ out there who want to hurt me, shouldn't I hurt now when you're around than hurt later when you may not be able to come? This teaches me, I guess…If it doesn't kill me, it makes me stronger, right?"

"Or it cripples you," Fujimoto said tiredly. "Or it makes you unable to defend yourself."

Rin looked at the tired man in front of him, and suddenly felt tired himself. "…I don't think that'll happen," he said quietly, and started to lay down all of his insecurities. "After all, I'm not normal."

Fujimoto looked up at him, something unreadable in his eyes. "What makes you say that?"

"…I heard them last night. The demons."

The tired man was gone, and the cautious, aware man was back. "What do you mean?"

"Kuro was awesome, by the way," Rin said, trying to be a little optimistic. "He's a cool cat. It was nice to be able to talk to him and hear him…"

"But the other demons—did you hear them too?"

Rin was quiet for a moment. "…Yeah. Yeah, I did. Well, I didn't _hear_ most of them as much as I felt them—you know, the hobgoblins and those kinds of demons. But once the bigger fry started to turn up—the monsters that made things like this, I could…"

"Hear." Fujimoto finished for Rin, and the man was quiet for a moment. "There's more, isn't there?"

"Yeah. The second one, it seemed smarter than the first, and right before you guys showed up to kill it, it was like 'You've got this…_demonic_…spark in your eye' and 'A normal human couldn't move with those injuries' and that humans can't hear demons or call fire to them…"

Rin paused, and Fujimoto didn't fill the silence, his eyes urging Rin to continue on.

"…Am I not human, Daddy?" there were tears in his eyes, and he didn't want to cry but they were _there_.

Fujimoto's eyes softened, and he leaned over the boy until Rin couldn't see his face, only the stiff black material of the man's uniform and the white white white of the hospital room.

"Why do you ask that, Rin?"

"'Cause…'Cause the monster was _right_! Yukio can't do all those things, and he's my brother, so I was wondering if I was like one of those demons that was switched with a human kid at birth, but I don't _want_ to be one of those demons and I don't _want _to be a demon, but it fits! It fits, 'cause demons want to kill me and humans want to kill me and if I were human, really really _human_, it wouldn't be this way!"

Rin was suddenly crushed closer to his father, a hand gently pushing Rin's face into the man's shoulder.

"Listen to me, Rin. Do you remember when you were younger, when you asked if you were a demon?"

A fuzzy memory played before Rin's eyes, and he nodded. "Yeah."

"What did I tell you?"

"…I'm a human child."

"_Exactly,_" his father whispered, and it was a fervent whisper, a strong whisper that made Rin believe that Fujimoto believed what he said. "You are a _human child_, Rin—_never_ forget that. Your mother…she was one of the strongest, kindest Exorcists I knew, and she went through with a birth she wasn't sure she could handle because she _loved_ you and Yukio, loved you to bits and pieces even though she never truly knew you."

Rin's breath caught in his throat and the tears stopped, if only for a moment. "…You knew Mom?"

"…Yes. Yes I did, but that's a story for another time, for a time long from now."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Rin?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"I want to let you know something else. You remember those birds, right?"

"Yeah." Rin didn't think he would ever forget it, that grotesque, cruel display of human brutality.

"_There is evil and good in the hearts of men_," Fujimoto recited before continuing. "That's just a simple truth. It hasn't been proved and isn't an encouraged thought among Exorcists, but…I think that in some demons, there is also good and evil. Kuro's a demon, right? But he's good. He's kind, he's loyal, and he's got a good heart even _if_ he is a demon. So what exactly makes a demon a demon?"

"Dunno." Rin sniffled. "Actions?"

"Right on target," Fujimoto whispered, and then drew back, his hands on Rin's shoulders and his eyes on Rin's. "While most humans are humans and most demons are demons, there are humans who can act cruelly and horribly and like _demons_—like, serial killers—and there are demons who can act like humans—Kuro, for example. This is not saying you should trust that there is good in all demons, because in some, there _is_ none. No, this is saying that if you know the circumstances of a demon, like I knew Kuro's, you should judge these circumstances and try to see it through that creature's eyes—are their actions understandable? Justifiable? How long did they wait to take action? What prompted them to take action? Just because you can hear them or understand them doesn't make you a demon—it makes you, I think, rather _human_. What should a human be?"

"…Nice."

"Correct. Nice, kind, compassionate—this is our vision of a human. Humans can be cruel and vicious and absolutely merciless, but we should try to let the good in our hearts triumph over the bad. Do you understand me?"

Rin nodded and wiped the tears away.

Something flashed across Fujimoto's face again, and the man hesitated only a split second, like he wasn't sure if he should say what he wanted to or not. "Rin…even if you _were_ a demon, I'd treat you the same. Do you want to know why?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah," he croaked out.

"Because of this here." Fujimoto Shiro removed one hand from a shoulder and laid his index finger on the center of Rin's chest—right over his heart. "Rin, you've got a good heart—that should be enough proof of your humanity right there. Even if the whole world turns against you, I'll be there by your side."

Rin blinked and then laughed a little. "Yukio said that too."

His father smiled, and it reached into his eyes. "I'm glad he said that. I'm very glad he said that. Now…sleep, would you? You've got a long ways to go to recover."

Fujimoto helped Rin lower himself onto the bed, and then tucked the blankets securely under Rin's arms to allow the IV to not cause the boy discomfort.

"I feel like a mummy," Rin said with a half-hearted grumble, swallowing back the blood he tasted in his mouth.

"Good. You can't move as well, and I feel a lot better about that." Fujimoto leaned back into the chair.

Rin closed his eyes and felt himself fall asleep almost right away before a thought occurred to him and he snapped back into wakefulness. "Wait wait wait—is today Wednesday? It's school right? Am I missing _school_ right now?"

The man laughed after a short pause. "Yes, you're missing school, and I think you'll be missing school for the rest of the week at the very least."

"_Yessss_," Rin whispered, resisting the urge to pump his fist in the air and instead wriggling his toes under the blanket.

"That doesn't mean that you're missing out on what's going on in school," Fujimoto said loudly. "In fact, Shura has volunteered to go to the school _every day_ in order to make sure that you and Yukio don't fall behind in your studies. She's picking up the papers as we speak, and explaining the problem to the teacher."

At that moment, Shura became a figure of absolute _detestment_ in Rin's eyes. "I thought…I thought we were like each other! She hates school work, she refuses to help me with it and and and!"

Fujimoto chuckled at him. "Go to sleep, Rin, while you have the chance—even if you can't write, Shura can and Yukio can."

As Rin fell asleep that day, he despaired.

So much for that break he'd been hoping for.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

...

I just beat up a couple of eleven year olds...it feels horrible but satisfying at the same time. (shot)

So, yeah, I didn't realize I'd hurt Rin as bad as I had until I got to the whole hospital scene. And then I went back over my chapter and found all the places he'd gotten hurt and how bad it had been.  
>Rin's not going to be feeling well for a while...<p>

Shura's not feeling very good about herself right now-not good at all. However, this won't last too long, even though she's likely to be a LOT more careful in the future. I think that this really rattled Fujimoto and Shura, as well as Rin and Yukio. This kind of mission wasn't supposed to happen until after they were strong enough and _old_ enough to handle it-at their current strengths and handicaps (Rin's fire, for one, acts against him in this way-he lets it out, it's like a SCREAMING POLICE SIREN to demons everywhere. That brief burst-that second-long burst-called several demons to the scene of the crime. If he'd done it more often and for longer periods of time, the twins would probably be in even worse shape), this was above their level. It was due to sheer intelligence and pig-headed stubborness that they got through this. Yukio's supplies really helped them through-all in all, they were _lucky_. They were _lucky_ Shura managed to get that car when she did, _lucky_ that Fujimoto had a key that would bring him near the mansion, _lucky_ that Rin is, in fact, the son of Satan and therefore able to unconsciously heal a little faster and ignore pain a little better than most people, as the second Naberius (tada, that's what they were) noticed.

(coughs)

So, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Of course, next chapter is as unsure as always in terms of updating-I don't know how much time I'll have (I've got some projects planned for X-mas, and who knows how much homework I'll recieve from the Depths of Hell), but I'll do my best! HOORAY FOR VACATION TIME!

Until next time!


	6. Der Abschied

**A/N**: TWO WARNINGS:

ONE: There is some bad language in the chapter. Consider yourself forewarned if you're sensitive to those sorts of things.

TWO: This is freaking shooooooooooooort compared to many chapters. It is STILL longer than the first one, though, so I consider myself satisfied.

Why is it so short?

...Other than the first five of about twenty two pages, I wrote all of this last night, from about 8 o'clock to about 2 o'clock in the morning. Ha. Ha. Ha. (headdesks)

In my defense, I did not expect to have my social life flare up this month, especially the first week of break. I've not been on the computer nearly as much this past week-I've been doing _too much_. Against that defense, I do admit that I was certainly NOT discrete in my endeavours to put this off...and off...and off...until literally the last moment. I made myself sit down and write, and if it seems like it's forced and rushed, that's probably because it is. I'm sorry if the quality of this chapter isn't as good as the others...and I feel even guiltier after I consider the recent news of awesomeness.

What is this news?

This:

http:/ / pmwiki/ / FanficRecs/ BlueExorcist

If you can't see it, it's supposed to be a spaced-out link to the Fanfic Recommendation page for AonoEx on TVtropes.

This story is the one and only there.

...I was _so freaking excited_, let me tell you.

Thank you, **Jean Curtis**, for letting me know!

As it is, unless you're an anonymous reviewer, enjoy the chapter! To the rest of you, I'll reply...soon...maybe... .;;;

**wisdom of the brokenhearted: **(flushes a deep, deep red) Thank you so much for the compliments...(squirms in her seat and starts to chew childlishly on her finger before realizing what she's doing and stopping). I know that several other fics are that way, which is why I don't tend to try to dig through the AonoEx archive often...I should probably do that. When I have time. Which honestly isn't often right now... And yeah, maybe 82 reviews isn't a lot compared to the big archives, but don't worry! That doesn't deter me- in my books, that's a hell of a huge amount. 82 reviews for five chapters? That's...That's more than 15 a piece! I am really, really happy with my reviewers...however, I do agree with your sentiment of 1000 reviews. That would be the most amazing thing on earth. The day that happens, I sit down and write as much as I can of this story and maybe do a double update that month. Thank you for the review, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**carol: **Thank you so much for your review-it gave me happy squirmy laughs. I'm pleased that I can write so well that I can evoke that kind of emotion in a reader... My favorite line in your review? "_asdfghjhkl", _followed closely by "_my heart just blowed in one million pieces._"

**your new fan: **...(doesn't think of herself as a genius, but is flattered by the comment nonetheless) Thank you so much for the review and the compliments-I need to get a better line than that, by the way...Enjoy!(by the way, have you been resurrected or are you simply a zombie now?)

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Six:<span>_ Der Abschied_

(The Farewell)

.

Yukio let out a slightly shaky breath as he leaned against the wall of the waiting room, fingers twitching and legs trembling in both anticipation and fear. He closed his eyes, inhaled so deep his shoulders rose level to his earlobes, and then exhaled. This time, it rattled a little less, but it did nothing to sooth his nerves.

"Nervous?"

The thirteen year old boy turned to his father-figure, who was nonchalantly taking advantage of the chairs provided in the room. His eyebrows were lifted in question, and there was an amused quirk at the left corner of his mouth.

"…Not really," Yukio lied, stomping down the desire to snap back a sharp reply. After all, he needed to be more mature, more able to control his temper and choose his words. If he passed…if he passed, he'd have to be _so much more_.

But he wanted to pass this. He _needed _to, in a way, despite the added responsibilities and stress it would place on his small shoulders.

Fujimoto's right eyebrow lifted even further and he grinned a little. "Yukio, your hands are twitching and your jaw is locked more than usual. Loosen up—it'll be fine."

The said boy's eye twitched in annoyance, and he turned back to face that horribly closed wooden door, which was inscribed with runes for protection and healing and fighting.

"Look," the Paladin said quietly, humor still in his voice, "I went through this too, and where am I now?"

"Paladin. But you're different," Yukio protested softly, fists clenching and unclenching as a way to let out his nervous energy. He would _not_ reduce himself to treading a hole in Indian-style rug depicting Bhuddist monks chanting sutras, and he would most certainly _not_ start singing off-key or jumping from chair to chair like his brother would in his situation.

"Yup," Fujimoto cheerily agreed, causing Yukio's head to jerk towards him. He hadn't expected his father to agree so _quickly_, and something inside of him fell a little.

"Yup," the man continued on, having seen the slight drooping of Yukio's shoulders and the flash of betrayal in his cyan eyes, "because I wasn't a genius. _I _wasn't the one who became an Exorcist before I turned ten, let _alone_ climb the ranks from rookie to Meister in less than five years. It took me a lot longer than that, Yukio."

Yukio squashed the feeling of pride that rose within him and turned to discount Fujimoto's argument. "And what if I fail? What will everybody think? What will…what will _Rin_ think?" His brother had been so excited ever since Yukio'd come home with the news that he was going to be tested for a Meister position in Dragoon and Doctor. He'd been grinning and his eyes had been wide and almost _sparkling_ from the joy within them.

_"You'll _definitely_ pass it," Rin yelled, pumping a fist and then picking up his brother forcefully, even though Yukio had been getting taller than his elder brother. "You'll definitely pass it, and damn, that'll be cool! Just think, my little brother, growing up!"_

"If you fail," Fujimoto said, standing up and taking the couple steps over to Yukio, "then it will simply have been too early. The Vatican understands that, I understand that, and guess what? _Rin_ will understand. You should know your brother better than that," he chided gently, ruffling the boy's hair and grinning at him.

Yukio thought about it for a moment, and then grimaced. "True. He'd probably go on about how the proctors must all be blind and deaf and dumb and unable to see the _awesomeness_ in me."

He distinctly remembered Rin using that turn of phrase once, when Yukio had gotten his first less-than-stellar grade in school. Rin had been absolutely stomping mad about that, he recalled. If only he'd have been as upset over his almost-failing mark…

The boy could feel himself relaxing, but instead of tensing up, he looked up at his father, and simply said, "Thanks, Father."

"No problem," Fujimoto said, before stepping away and clapping his hands on Yukio's shoulders. "Look at you, my little baby boy going to get his Meister already. He's grown up so much!" Tears leaked out of his eyes, and he sniffed dramatically before pulling Yukio towards him and erupting into loud sobs.

Over his father's shoulder, Yukio's face turned a flaming red and he started pushing at the elder man's chest. "Let me go, let me go, you're…" he dropped his voice into a whisper. "You're _embarrassing_!"

Fujimoto's crying only grew louder, and Yukio's red face turned absolutely scarlet as he shut his eyes.

Then the worst thing that could happen did just that, and it was with growing horror that Yukio watched the door to the examination room open with a smooth creak.

"Okumura Yukio?" The elderly man pushed a round pair of glasses up his nose as he glanced down at his clipboard before looking back up. "It's time for your…"

The man's voice trailed off when he saw the scene in front of him, and coughed slightly before continuing. "…exam. Are you ready?"

"Y-Yes sir," the boy said before turning head, a glower on his face. He hissed into his father's ear, "If Rin hears a _word_ about this…"

Fujimoto let his son go with a wide grin, tears still rolling down his cheeks. "You'll do what?"

The Paladin felt a chill run down his spine as his youngest son's glasses flashed and a devilish expression smirked its way across the boy's face. The moment was gone as soon as it came, and Yukio looked up at his father with a deceptively peaceful smile.

"Oh, never mind," he said pleasantly. "I need to take my test."

Yukio turned his back on his father and approached the elderly proctor, who was staring at the ceiling with a slightly uncomfortable expression on his face.

"…Yukio."

The boy stopped for a moment, but didn't look back or even speak. Yukio couldn't see his father's face this way, he wouldn't show the hesitation the worry the I'm-not-ready-for-this more than he already had, he wouldn't show how _deep_ it was. He'd show his father his back, let him believe that he was ready for this.

That, and if he turned back, he wasn't sure if his wavering resolve would completely break or not.

"Good luck."

A grin pulled at his lips for one short moment, and he raised a nervous hand before continuing on through that open door. He could glimpse a wide room behind it, and the floor was padded and soft. He—

"You didn't look cool at all, you know!" Fujimoto shouted behind him. "Your hand was shaking when you did that."

His right eye twitched, but before he could turn and yell at his father, the proctor had pulled the door shut.

Yukio looked over his shoulder at the rune-inscribed oak door, feeling the light irritation fade away.

The person behind him coughed delicately and asked, "Are you ready for the exam to begin, Okumura Yukio-san?"

The twin took a deep breath and let it out before turning to face the man clad in serious black.

"Yes."

* * *

><p>The room was silent; so silent, that it was pushing down on him, that it rang shrilly in his ears and magnified the sound of his breathing in his chest.<p>

His eyes were narrowed in concentration, his pupils pinpricks of black against a sea of vivid blue, and a bead of sweat trickled down his cheek from his brow. His double-edged sword, the most dangerous thing he'd ever wielded, was held tightly in one hand as his nervous gaze flitted from side to side.

With his back placed strategically against the wall, he surveyed the enemy in front of him. It had been a long, hard battle, and he could feel himself losing his concentration. This was not good, he realized, sweaty fingers slipping on the grip of his weapon. If he lost the fight to this opponent, not only would the consequences be severe, but his wounded pride would be crushed even further than it already had. This black-spotted creature had inflicted wounds upon him-terrible, horrible wounds that dribbled red everywhere—but it was not without its own hurts. Little by little, he had started to defeat it. It was harrowing, hard work, but its strange blue blood appeared with every correctly-aimed stroke.

Rin's eyes widened as he found the last weak point of the creature, mind whirring wildly. If he carried that there…yes, and then put this in for the other thing…it could work. It _would work_.

With a wild, strangled cry, he plunged his weapon down at his opponent and began to slash at it with all his might.

One, two, three, score a line across one black mark and draw blue blood, and then in a flurry of frenzied strokes he managed to bring the creature to its knees. It gave out a keening wail as it struggled to defy him, to oppose him with every attempt he made. With its supernatural powers, it sent him reeling back for a moment to massage a sudden headache, weapon held between three fingers.

In a surge of concentration, though, he lunged forward once more and scratched at the creature furiously until, with one last, savage thrust, he drew a line down its color-muddled hide. The being accepted its defeat without a sound, and it was with extreme satisfaction that Rin leaned back, sweating a little, and let his pen drop to the desk.

Opponent three: Math homework.

Mission status: Defeated.

He let his head drop back and let out a shaky breath. He'd been at that for what seemed like hours, even _days_. He was old enough to not say years—that would be pretty bad, considering he was already a _teenager_, and was going to add another tick to the count soon, but sometimes he wanted to say it.

Rin couldn't wait for middle school to be over.

But for now…for now, he thought glumly as he bonelessly flopped himself onto his desk, he would struggle through the dull stuff until he graduated. If he was honest with himself, school wasn't always _that_ bad. He could make bentos for his brother and himself, he could throw paper planes at the stray coal tar, and practice hand-to-hand on Chiaki during lunch hour when he caught the kid picking on some poor student who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and…really, all he enjoyed about school had nothing to do with school _at all_.

It wasn't his fault that he just couldn't learn things without _doing_ them. This was, of course, the hardest learning-type to conform to, and the school he went to was more suited to Yukio's type of person.

Despite himself, Rin grinned widely at the desk below him. Yukio's test was today—he remembered how his brother had been wildly panicking about every little thing he could have been. What was the exact difference between a Goblin and a Hobgoblin, how exactly did you kill a rampaging Ghoul, what poultices you put on which wounds, and a whole bunch of other stuff Rin couldn't cram into his head even if he spent twice the time studying that Yukio did.

In the past few weeks, Yukio had studied at least three hours daily—his record, if Rin could recall correctly, was a total of six hours and thirty-something minutes.

In the quiet of the room, Rin heard the door quietly shift, and was immediately alert once more. He jerked into a position half out of his chair and let his hands hang loosely at his sides. All of his senses were strained as he took in the slightly-open door and the shifted rug on the floor.

The hairs rose on the back of his neck right before he pitched himself over his desk and folded himself into a roll. Upon his feet finding the ground again, he lurched into a crouch and used the momentum from the fall to spin himself around.

Nobody was behind his desk. His eyes narrowed in half-confusion. He shouldn't have imagined it…though, to be truthful, he _had_ done that a time or two before.

Something brushed the very nape of his neck before he felt the weight of the necklace pull itself further down his chest, and he knew _exactly _what was going on.

With an annoyed frown, Rin clutched the pendant through the cloth of his long-sleeved shirt and spun his free hand around in a wide arc in hopes of catching the culprit. Just as he rotated with the force of his swing, a long-fingered hand caught his fist and pulled. Stumbling, the pre-teen pitched himself forward into the direction of the door, somehow managing to turn himself around and place his back to the wall directly next to the panel of oak.

"Will you quit doing that?" He said very loudly, heart beating wildly. "I was doing _homework_! Homework!"

The cause of his distress was wearing a smirk that would make any cat proud. "So? It looked like yer were done to me."

His mouth opened and closed before he was able to find the words, "_So_? That doesn't mean you need to sneak up on me! What if I _wasn't_ done, huh? What then? Dad'd get mad at you if you disturbed me! _And it's not nice!_"

"Yer were so busy makin' theatrics out of it all," Shura drawled, her weight shifted arrogantly to one side and her hand resting nonchalantly on one jutted hip, "that it took yer about two hours to get three teensy assignments done."

Rin's lip jutted out in an unconscious pout, and his voice dropped to a mumble, "Doesn't matter, they were hard."

Shura snickered before adopting an uncharacteristically serious face. "Rin. Yer know Yukio's taking his Meister test right now, right?"

He rolled his eyes and gave her a long look. She cleared her throat.

"Well, I thought that during that time, we'd do a bit of training together. Yukio's been doing a bunch this week already, and I know we haven't had as much time together as we woulda liked."

Shura had been around the church very sparingly the past week, but this wasn't completely unusual any more. Within the past few months, his teacher had come less and less and _less_, which left Rin to draw up his own training schedule and forced him to practice with his brother. This wasn't completely awful; after all, when Yukio went on 'solo' missions, Rin could always come along and help without anybody knowing that there was an exorcist outside of the system.

Rin knew that there was something wrong with him—well, not wrong, but _different_. He knew it was strange for a human to be able to summon fire at will. Unless an exorcist was a summoner or had a contract with a demon, it should be impossible for him or her to develop or display any 'supernatural' powers. Rin was fairly sure he wasn't a summoner—they'd never tried it, but his father got a funny look on his face whenever it was mentioned—and he was _certain_ that he didn't have a contract with a demon. After all, he'd never done anything like that, and if his mom had, _both_ he and Yukio would be human lighters.

So, one night, when Yukio was out somewhere with other exorcists, he'd gathered up all of his courage, apologized to his poor brain, and pulled out one of Yukio's textbooks on the history of Exorcism. The big fat one with the fancy calligraphy.

Rin shuddered at the thought.

"Oh?" Shura raised an eyebrow, and something strange flashed across her eyes. "Was I the only one?"

Startled, Rin turned his attention to his teacher. "No! I—I was just thinking about other things."

The woman blinked, and a sly expression crossed her face slowly. "So, are yer saying yer _missed_ my training?"

The pre-teen loosened his expression in confusion, and then quickly became horrifyingly embarrassed. "O-Of course not! You're a demon lady who likes to sc—_surprise_ me way too much. Why would I enjoy your hellish sessions? That's…that's just _stupid_!"

If he could avoid it, he would _never_ tell her that sometimes, just sometimes, he enjoyed the time they spent together.

The reason for this was the smirk currently on Shura's face. "Yer sure, _Rin-chan_?"

His thirteen-year old face flamed up, and he stood up straight as he pointed a finger at the woman before him. "Oi! I'm not a kid!"

With an amused smile on her face, she took a couple of steps over and leaned forward a little, ruffling his hair. "Yer keep telling yerself that, kid.

He glowered up at her from underneath his unruly bangs, one hand still carefully clutching the pendant under his shirt.

"So," she continued with her hand still resting on his head, "Yer wanna go train a little? No backin' out once yer've said yes, no deciding that yer want it after yer say no."

Rin pushed her hand off of his head, stepped to the side a bit and then glowered at her, trying to decide if the risk was worth it. The first time she'd given him this sort of offer, he'd taken it and had experienced some of the most hellish hours of his life. The second time she'd offered, he'd refused and ended up missing out on 'training' at an amusement park.

This was the third time. He doubted she was going to take him out somewhere, but also didn't think she was going to train him until he dropped from exhaustion.

"Well, squirt? What're yer gonna do?"

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. There was mirth in her eyes—a dangerous amount, to be truthful, but that was rather normal for Kirigakure Shura when she was around her student. Rin noticed that the lines in her forehead were a little more defined, the bags around her eyes a little more noticeable, and while her mouth was quirked upward in a superior smirk, there was something straining at it.

What sold him was the longing and sorrow hidden behind the mirth, and his stomach dropped even as he adopted a wide smile of his own, eyes narrowed characteristically.

"Let's go." He said, even as he pushed down on the thought that had sprung up in his mind.

_Please don't do what I think you're doing_.

* * *

><p>The moment they were in the training room, the heavy door closed and locked behind them, Shura turned to her pupil with a big grin on her face.<p>

"Yer ready? I thought we'd play a game today."

Rin flinched a little, but pulled himself together and grinned right back at her. "What kind of game?"

While he felt that he was too old for 'games' like tag and red-light-green-light, games with Shura were different. Games with Shura were _dangerous_. They'd played Hide and Seek once, but Rin had been hiding and Shura had been seeking with tennis balls.

Tennis balls hurt when they were thrown the way Shura throws them.

"A fun one."

"You and I have different ideas of fun, I think…" Rin said, the grin loosening a bit into something like a frown.

Shura spun around again, wagging her finger with her back to him. "Ah-ah-ah, but I think yer'll like this game. Yer see, I've added some _rules_ to it."

"No throwing stuff at student? No throwing water on student and then throwing him outside?"

"Even better!" Shura looked over her shoulder and grinned, taking a step forward and spinning about to face him, one hip jutting out as she placed her weight on it. "Rule number one: No hitting."

The boy let out a sigh of relief and relaxed his stance a bit. The weight in his left hand, which still clenched his pendant through the dark blue shirt he had on, reminded him of what was wrong with his attire. He was _not_ dressed for exercising, in his jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

"Rule two! If yer flames come out, we stop, 'kay?" The grin she sent him was sharp.

Rin scowled, but nodded his head as he retrieved the pendant from below his shirt. "Can we add 'no going for Rin's pendant?"

She waved a dismissive hand at him. "Naw, not going for the necklace makes things no fun."

"It's not a necklace…" he mumbled, "It's a _pendant_. There's a _difference_."

"Anyways!" Shura chirped before something sharpened in her eyes, something a little dangerous and warning and something that never failed to make the hairs on Rin's neck stand up on end. "Last rule: When I say we stop, we stop. No objections. Yer good with that? 'Cause I'll let yer walk out the door if yer not good with these rules."

That made Rin stop. When Shura offered to let him out a second time, either it was going to be _really really bad_ or it was going to be one of those _if you don't take this chance you'll regret it for the rest of your life_ deals. In other words, this was serious, serious business.

_Why are you so serious?_

Shura wasn't normally like this. She was sharper in a humorous way, she enjoyed having fun and drinking and scaring a few years off of his lifespan. She detested being serious—hated it with a passion. She wanted to live life and love it, not live life having a 'stick stuck up my ass'. She hated that Angel person, who was so superior about his swordmanship and how his whole purpose in life was to destroy demons in the name of God.

And while she was still speaking normally, there was a tone of steel underneath her tone and in her eyes and lacing the way she carried herself.

Rin didn't like seeing his teacher like this.

Shura wasn't just his kendo instructor. Okay, yes, she taught him swordplay, and how to move himself efficiently, how to dodge and strike and retaliate and be so god damned _adaptive_ to his environment and use it to his advantage that even she had a hard time countering him now, but she was _more_ than that. She was the one who'd brought him his homework when he couldn't move either hand, she'd been the one who constantly left something sweet in his school bag (and yes, he knew she'd been doing that), she'd been there last year the time he'd accidentally drank holy water only for it to have dangerous, drastic consequences that manifested themselves as him having to throw up every thirty minutes for about four hours and had left him in bed with a lingering fever for almost a week. She wasn't just his _teacher_—she was one of the people he considered closest to him, a precious person.

Sometimes he wondered if she was something they called a sister.

…That was something else he'd never tell her.

So he made himself seem unassuming, made himself grin at her dangerously, the grin he usually used when he was about to do something that could really really _hurt_ but he couldn't help but look forward to it.

"What do you think I am, a coward? I don't go back on my word, you know."

A grin flashed across her face, sharper than ever and the spark returned to her eyes. The steel was still there, but it was muted, drowned in sadistic glee.

"We're going to play a little something called _tag_."

Despite himself, Rin's grin sputtered and died as he groaned out loud.

Shura's only reply was a smirk and a stretch. Rin noticed quickly how her weight had been shifted ever so slightly onto the balls of her feet.

He clasped the pendant around his neck. As he did so, he followed her example before saying casually, "Who's it?"

She blurred out of sight and he had to leap out of the way, barely avoiding the hand that swiped at his head.

"That could have hurt!" He shouted as he tucked and rolled, eyes tracking his position in the room as quickly as possible. "I thought you said no physical attacks!"

"If yer hadn't dodged that," she said nonchalantly, examining her nails and him out of the corner of her eye, "I would've stopped this and we could've played some tennis."

He winced.

"And by the way," Shura smirked, holding up something black and thin, "Yer it."

Rin scowled, and lunged at her without giving her a chance to move further away. He wasn't going to get angry, he told himself as she kept dodging and dodging and fu—freaking _dodging_, he wasn't going to get so frustrated that his flames came out.

The familiar warm heat licked through his veins, and he pulled himself away from Shura on the pretense of having lost his balance. Rin fought with himself for control, and pushed down the feelings that had a tendency to fuel the unnatural flames. This only took a second, and then he was back again.

One, two, dodge and smoothly spin behind him before playfully rapping on his head.

"Yer really think that's good enough?"

Narrowed eyes and a feint in one direction before catching a bare shoulder in the other. Rin grinned. "No, _that_ is."

Retreat, a narrow escape from a suddenly quick palm, twist out of the way of a lashing foot, and roll under an extended arm away from the wall.

"You're not allowed to tag with your feet!"  
>"Says who?" A roundhouse to the head only proved to support this statement, and Rin had to duck before he ended up sleeping for the next few minutes.<p>

"Isn't this really breaking rule number one?" He asked, before skipping out of the way of another quick swipe.

Shura grinned at him. "As long as it doesn't hit you, it isn't."

A second later, she'd tapped him on the chin in a cautionary motion. "It."

Rin retaliated by flicking her shoulder with the tips of his fingers as she moved to get away. "You're still it now!"

"No, I'm not!" Shura crowed, dancing away with a wild look on her face. "Haven't yer heard of 'no tagbacks'? Five second rule!"

"You never said that!" Rin complained, but dove after her again anyways, stuttering his steps from time to time in order to try to herd her into the wall, but she caught onto what he was doing immediately and ducked under his arm before pushing him and _skipping_ away.

Rin growled a little, but pushed himself off the wall and used the motion to crash momentarily into Shura, breathing out an "It" before staggering away from the woman to attempt to regain his balance.

She was upon him in moments, jabbing and prodding at his weak zones before finally catching him on the elbow when he raised his lower arm a little too high to try to avoid the swipe beforehand.

He played the offensive for a little bit before he caught her moving her hip back a little too far to quickly retaliate, and lunged, tapping the opposite hip before letting his momentum carry him forward and quickly out of her surprised reach. Shura whipped an arm over his bent back before bringing the other down, barely missing him as he threw himself to the side and rolled in mid-air before dropping to the ground heavily. Rin barely avoided the quick kick to his face by rolling once, twice more and pulling himself up off the ground.

"Why do you keep aiming for my head?" He exclaimed as her fingertip barely missed his nose, and he had to fight to keep himself from moving towards the nearest wall.

Shura grinned in reply, and sent a quick jab at his forehead. He ducked and staggered around her, receiving a close call in the form of an elbow aimed at his gut as she turned and followed his movements.

"It's fun~" She said with a smirk, halting her backwards momentum with one leg, which bent with the force of the stop. She then extended it, lunging at Rin, who ducked and let her fly over him. Shura turned in mid-air and fisted her hands in his shirt collar, flinging him over her form as her curled back hit the ground. She rocked forward and threw him, a comical 'whoops' expression forming on her face as she let go of him, Rin flailed in the air for a moment before extending his legs with knees slightly bent. A second later, his feet hit the holly-wood-walls and he bent his legs, absorbing the impact as well as he could before dropping to the floor with hands extended before his head. He made contact, rolled to his feet, and looked at his surprised teacher. After a moment of silence, he gave a sheepish grin and rubbed at the back of his head. "Is that considered hitting?"

Shura blinked, and then shook her head, a smile blossoming on her face. "Nope! I only threw yer. _And, _since I touched yer shirt, yer it."

Rin grinned, and lunged forward.

* * *

><p>Shura watched Rin's sweaty back as he walked to his room with a slight limp to his step, a disgustingly happy expression on her face. For four hours, they'd played every sort of game she could think of—Hide and Seek with the help of various bits and pieces taken from both the cluttered basement and the dusted attic (Jiboru-san was very fond of the room and believed in breaking stereotypes), a bit of fencing, capture the flag around your opponent's forehead, and so on and so forth. All in all, she was rather pleased.<p>

For one, Rin had met her expectations in all things as well as succeeded in others—for example, when they'd played tag again, after taking a break and lugging a bunch of junk into the room that they'd clean out tomorrow, and he'd cunningly trapped her between a stack of crates and a fake 'crumbling' wall before hindering her escape by kicking the crates down as he beat an escape.

For another, Rin hadn't relied on his flames _once_ in the entire period they'd trained together. She knew Fujimoto had been removing the restrictions on the pendant from time to time, and so she knew that more and more of the flame was being held in check by Rin himself.

Last of all…the smile dropped from her face as she remembered what was going to happen once New Year's came around. If nothing else, she knew Rin was at a very good level, especially for his age. In fact, he was better than most Exorcists with some of the most basic skills. He was no expert, but many Middle Second Class Knights had worse footwork and an even poorer awareness of their surroundings than he did.

Shura grinned as she wondered how Rin would fare against an Angel who was still struggling with the concept that yes, he needed to be aware that not every demon or opponent was so stunned by his behavior as to be unable to attack him (though many were distracted enough that Angel was able to strike them down). Realistically, Angel would probably beat Rin to a pulp, especially if he found out what exactly Rin was, but she liked to entertain daydreams of her favorite pupil showing Angel who's who.

Angel hadn't had a pupil yet, a part of her crowed as the front door opened and two 'Tadaima's echoed through the house.

Then again, she thought, nobody'd want to get _close_ enough to Angel to train under him, unless they were made out of the same stuff. Shura shuddered at the thought.

Rin's bedroom door, which had been closed just a moment ago, slammed open as he dragged up energy from _God _knows where, and the heavy footfalls of his feet pounded against the wood flooring. "Yukio! How'd it go, how'd it go?"

Shura snickered and went to join them at a slower but still jaunty pace. As she headed down the hall past Rin's bedroom, she heard Yukio's tired voice answer.

"Yes, I think I did well. No, there was no written Exam. I studied because I wasn't sure. Yes, it was difficult. No, there were no live demons there other than those kept for examination purposes. No, I did _not _have to fight them. Yes, they were contained. No, there weren't any women with—would you get your mind out of the gutter, Rin?"

Fujimoto was rubbing their hair when she turned the corner, and he looked up at her as she did, taking in her sweaty appearance with a raised eyebrow. "Training?"

Shura wickedly grinned. "Yer could call it that."

He blinked, but narrowed his eyes at her as he caught the insinuation, something dangerous in them. "You aren't saying what I think you are, right?"

Rin had wrinkled his nose at Shura as Yukio's expression turned confused. "Eeew, no, Dad! Why the hell would I do that?"

"Language," Fujimoto reprimanded as understanding crossed Yukio's face and the younger brother punched the elder. As the twins started bickering in the background, Shura explained herself shortly.

"It wasn't really training, it was more like playing games."

Fujimoto lifted an eyebrow, and Shura read the question in his eyes. _What we talked about earlier?_

Shura nodded slightly.

The Paladin coughed and interjected himself between the two brothers. "Hey, tell you what, we can order something out tonight. What do you guys want?"

The twins stopped and stared at the Exorcist, who fidgeted in discomfort.

"What?"

"Dad," Rin said carefully, "did you just say that we could _order out_ tonight? As in, like, a _restaurant_ or something like that?"

The man nodded, still slightly confused. "Yeah…"

"As in," Yukio joined in, "we can call the pizza place and order a few pizzas. Something we do once every couple centuries."

Fujimoto raised his eyebrows. "If you don't want to, I could always make something tonight instead."

The boys were in the kitchen in a flash, and Fujimoto turned around with a smug expression on his face.

"Get me a Supreme! Make sure to get the Supreme!" Shura called after them, before turning her attention to Shiro. "Yer study?"

"My study," Fujimoto said, and they began to walk in the direction of his office room.

Once there, Fujimoto closed the door and gestured for Shura to take a seat in the cushier of the two chairs as he dropped the manila envelope he'd been carrying under one arm on his desk. She flopped herself down and threw her arms out wide.

"You stink," the Paladin said as he sat himself down across from her, his nose slightly wrinkled. "So. How did it go?"

"How did _Yukio's_ test go?" Shura asked pointedly, looking at the envelope on his desk. He frowned at her.

"That has nothing to do with his test, but I'll let the redirection slide. Yukio…Yukio is, plain and simple, a _genius_. He passed the Middle Second Class test with but a few, simple, easily-overlooked mistakes. The examiners wanted to push him up to the Middle First Class, but I said he could take it in a year or so. He doesn't need to be pushed up the ranks more than he already has been. We can't have him getting a big ego, can we?" He ended with a smile, and then looked at Shura sternly. "And Rin?"

"He's not a genius, that's for sure," Shura scoffed, looking up at the ceiling before letting a silly grin decorate her face. "But he's sure as _hell_ one good fucking student."

Fujimoto grinned a little and asked, "How exactly?"

"…Every. Single. Fucking. Way. He's amazing at dodging, fantastic at retaliating, he's got a set of reflexes and fighting instincts that are to _die _for, he's so much smarter on the battlefield than off it, and yer know what?"

She paused for effect, and Fujimoto waved her on.

"He doesn't _think about it_. He doesn't think like Yukio, try to puzzle out all the possibilities and go with the best in a split second—he just sees an opportunity and _knows what to do_."

In many ways, Rin was her dream student. He could be as annoying as hell and as dense as nothing else, but he was so much like her—not a thinker, just a _doer_—that she found it easier teaching him than trying to teach Yukio. Yukio picked up fast, but he couldn't understand the idea that you didn't really need to think or calculate to fight; in many ways, Yukio was _lucky_ that his thought process was so fast that it took him nearly no time at all to react.

Fujimoto was quiet for a moment. "…do you think he's ready for the Kurikara?"

"I…" Shura contemplated it. Was it really right to do that? "Why do yer ask?"

"He was able to keep all the flames contained, right?"

She nodded.

"That's one reason. Another is that Yukio's getting a set of twin pistols this year—don't ask me where I got the money from, I was _told_ to do it or suffer some sort of horrible punishment," Fujimoto shuddered, "and when Rin doesn't get something like that…I'd feel horrible. I don't want to give Kurikara as a gift, especially when he can't use it, but…I can't think of anything else that would be good for him."

Shura stopped, and then sighed. "Do yer know a good inscriber? I mean the exorcising kind."

"Yes, I do. I had Yukio's pistols inscribed a bit—runes for power and strength to aid his bullets against the higher-level demons. Why?"

"'Cause I've already commissioned a guy I know for a katana for Rin—Y'know, if we can get yer pal to work with mine, we could give it as a joint gift." In some ways, Shura didn't want to give up _her _idea and _her_ gift, but it was better than saddling a thirteen-year-old-boy with a responsibility bigger than he could take.

Unfortunately, Fujimoto was very, very observant. "…Are you doing this because you don't think he can handle it?"

"I _know_ he can't handle it," Shura said after a pause. "He's a strong kid—don't get me wrong. But…he's _thirteen_. Giving him Kurikara will just invite more danger to him and get him into more trouble."

Fujimoto's glasses flashed in the light of the study. "I asked because I was wondering the same thing. But…the way you worded it—are you still blaming yourself for Halloween?"

Shura flinched, and looked uncomfortably to the side, her arms coming in to hug herself. She was suddenly cold.

"Shura, I forgave you a while ago. You know that, right?"

She was quiet. "Yeah, I know. But…but _still_—he was so _hurt_!" Images of a broken, bleeding, _smiling_ Rin flashed through her head, and she felt the guilt threaten to overwhelm her. It had been two years already—two _fucking _years—but she couldn't totally get over it. "I…I just don't want him to get so hurt again. So can yer have yer inscriber help? Like, some sort of protection rune or something? Without it, the katana's really just a normal katana, and yer've _seen _how many broken bokuto Rin makes in a month's time."

Fujimoto looked at her a little longer, and opened his mouth. "I'm going to ask one more question. Is that why you accepted the long-term mission?"

"…" Shura was silent for a while longer, and she stared down at her hands, which weren't really pianist fingers—they were wider, and more calloused. She liked to think sometimes that, in another life, she might've been a bad-ass pianist. They flexed and contracted, once, twice, and she spoke up, voice low and serious. "Maybe that's a part of it. But when the time comes that you're suspected of having something to do with Satan…I want to be in a position where I can actually do something."

The Paladin's eyes were narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Angel let something slip a couple weeks ago," Shura started, still staring at her hands, "We, the Knights I mean, were talking about the Blue Night those thirteen years ago and Angel started bragging to a couple of them about a 'top secret mission' he might be appointed in the nearby area. It doesn't take a genius to put one and one together to get two."

"…I wasn't informed of this."

Shura nodded and finally looked at him. "Exactly. I think that either some third party tipped them off, or the higher-ups started an investigation around here and found too many loose ends connected to you. I don't like it—I don't like any part of them not telling you."

The fact that not only he was the Paladin, but also an exorcist stationed permanently in Japan went unsaid. It didn't _need_ to be said.

Something was going on in the Vatican, and it wasn't going the way they wanted it to.

"The longer I don't have contact," She continued, "the more likely they are to trust me. If they ever suspect Rin to be Satan's son or have something to do with him, I want to be around to protect him. Best case would be if I were heading the investigation and _not_ Mr. I'm-A-Fucking-Fag. Not just because I wasn't there on Halloween, but…Rin is my student. He's important to me."

Fujimoto gave her a grateful look that gave her all the information she needed, and they sat in silence a while longer.

"You know," Fujimoto said, "Rin's going to need to be able to carry that sword around safely wherever he is. Swords are kind of hard to conceal in public."

Shura blinked. "And?"

"I don't know, maybe you could get another one of your pals—or even do it on your own—to make a way for Rin to do that."

She was about to open her mouth, but understanding flickered across her face as she reflexively looked down at her chest and the red markings there. A grin stretched her features slightly as she looked back up. "Thanks, Shiro."

"No problem. So, you going to make the 'Congratulations!' certificate, or am I? Because I'll let you know that my art grade was the worst when I was in school, and nobody would let me write the posters because they looked like _shit_."

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, on the twenty-sixth of December, everybody in the church celebrated Christmas and the twin's birthday—perhaps it wasn't normal, but it was lighter on the budget to have a big meal for <em>one<em> day and easier to get all the presents together on that same day than two different days. The twenty-sixth was _family_ day, and the twenty-seventh was more a private day for the twins and whoever they wanted to spend it with, be it friends (unlikely, as their social lives were less-than-stellar) or be it simply Fujimoto and, on occasion, Shura.

They generally did a sort of Secret Santa thing on the day after Christmas—everybody got or made one gift, and they drew them at random. Of course, the twins were given a gift or two more, seeing as their birthdays were combined with Christmas, but it was usually a small affair. The cake was small and Christmas-themed, the meal a mix of western and eastern foods, and everybody got some sort of Christmas chocolate.

It was after the meal that the clergy offered to clean everything up, as they did every year, and Fujimoto pulled Rin and Yukio to the side while Shura stood leaning against the door.

"Now," Fujimoto said, glancing at Shura with an instruction in his eyes, "this is certainly _not_ going to happen every year after this. This is most likely a one-time deal, and it's only because it's a special year."

Yukio and Rin looked at Fujimoto in confusion, but Rin shrugged it off. Shura had disappeared from the doorway, and he was far more interested in where she'd gone than anything else.

As opposed to the months before, Shura had been absolutely _clingy_ these past two weeks. She'd done everything she could with Rin—she'd tried to cook with him, she'd trained with him, she'd even tried to do his homework with him before she threw the pencil at the wall and crumpled up the piece of paper she'd been using before stalking out of the room—and it had been driving him up the wall in some ways. The fact that she'd _willingly left the room while Rin was in it_ rang several alarms in Rin's head.

Yes, she had been very hard to get out of their room at nights. She didn't go into the bathroom with him, but _still_—it was absolutely _creepy_.

"What's Shura doing?" Rin asked, and Fujimoto smiled.

"You'll see. Well, first off, Yukio, congratulations on reaching Middle Second Class this year!"

As if on cue, Shura entered the room bearing a box wrapped in green, Christmas-tree printed wrapping paper. She tossed it to the younger twin, and he was nearly knocked back from the unexpected weight.

Rin grew very curious.

"And Rin…" Fujimoto said before handing an envelope to him. "I'd like you to read this first."

The elder twin accepted the envelope, feeling a little, well, _jealous_ that Yukio had gotten some big gift because he'd gotten Middle Second Class in the exorcism system, but pushed it down ruthlessly. His Dad had said _first_, so there _had_ to be something that came after that.

Yukio and he exchanged glances.

_You go first_, said Yukio's.

_Nah, you go_, said Rin's.

_Yours is SMALLER and likely to lead up to something_, glared Yukio, _so open the envelope before I do it for you_.

The last part was made up by Rin, but he dutifully followed his younger brother's orders and tore open the envelope. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Shura had winced a little and was staring off to the side while glancing at him every once in a while.

He pulled out the sheet of paper and unfolded it.

He blinked.

And once he read the contents for the third time, he grinned as wide as he could and sent a beam of thanks to Shura, who caught his eye and then turned away a little, blushing.

_Honorary Middle Second Class, 'cause the Vatican are a bunch of fucking fools and I personally think you're better than any of those wussy Knights in the ranks._

He didn't linger on how the calligraphy was hard to read at times. Nor did he comment on how informal it all was.

What mattered was that she'd done this for _him_, that he could think of himself as being the same rank as his brother despite not being part of the organization.

Yukio, who'd taken the paper from him, punched his arm lightly. "Congrats, Rin," he said with a soft smile.

"That's not it," Fujimoto said, and he handed a long parcel to Rin, who accepted it gingerly. The moment he held it, he knew _exactly _what it was.

The grin threatened to split his face in two.

Without waiting, he ripped straight into the packaging and ignored how Yukio, picky Yukio, was pulling his apart piece of tape by piece of tape. He ignored how the red wrapping was shredded beyond recognition—Kuro's third favorite part of Christmas was the wrapping paper (after the fish and catnip wine), and it was going to get torn apart later, so why bother?

Seconds later, a long, elegant black-sheathed katana was in his hands, and he pulled the sword out of the silver-embossed sheath with something like reverence, the scraping ring cutting through the silence. The moment the blade was in the air, he took a closer look at it. Hanging off the hilt was something akin to the rosary beads that decorated Fujimoto's glasses, and on the blade itself were runes upon runes, twisting around themselves in a mesmerizing way that captured the eye. Beside him, Yukio had halted in his unwrapping, and was staring at Rin's blade with wide eyes.

Words could not describe Rin's feelings.

"I commissioned the inscriber," Fujimoto said, "And Shura got the guy to make the sword do just that. They worked with each other in the final week very much—I hope you like it."

An armband had fallen to the ground in Rin's frenzied unwrapping, and he now sheathed the blade and picked the band up. There was something fancy on that too, something flame-y, and he looked up in confusion.

Shura answered him. "It's like my seal," she gestured at her chest. "Yer can put the sword in it for storage. Sheath too, but if yer need it in a hurry it should just give yer the blade."

As Yukio absentmindedly picked at a piece of tape, Rin sheathed the katana carefully, pulled the wristband on over his left wrist, and then pushed the sheath to the part of the band on the inside of his arm. There was a short pause, and then it slid smoothly into some dimensional space or another.

Rin watched it, fascinated, as it disappeared. "How do I get it out?"

"Just want to."

He grinned and made a fist over the armband before drawing it outwards slowly, like he'd seen Shura do so many times he couldn't even count them anymore. The sheathed blade came just as smoothly out as it went in, and, fascinated, he played with it for the next few minutes, until Yukio was finished opening his gift.

He looked over just as he heard the box lid being taken off, and blinked in amazement as two black and silver pistols—also embossed, like his the sheath to his katana was—were pulled out of a recycled white cardboard box. Even with his sparse knowledge concerning guns, Rin could tell that they were _good_. Yukio examined them with an awed, critical eye before twirling them once, then twice, and after that he was content. A wide, but quiet smile was on his face and he nodded his head to both Shura and Fujimoto, who were both grinning as well.

Shura's grin was all her—sharp, wide, with a tint of smugness and danger.

He saw it several times in the next five days—when they went out to a movie, the four of them, when she taught him how to take care of his sword and use it properly.

On New Years Eve, after midnight when he and Yukio had gone to bed, he heard her come into the room and smooth his hair back. He frowned at the action and opened one eye sleepily.

"Shura?"

She smiled at him softly before hesitating, then leaning down and kissing him on his exposed forehead. He blinked tiredly as she pulled back and ruffled his hair. Her face was indistinct in the darkness of the room, but he could see the white of her teeth as she grinned that dangerous, sharp grin once more.

"See you later, Rin," she said quietly. "You'd better take care of that katana for me and get really good with it, you hear me?"

"Yeah," he yawned, not really aware of what was going on. "Yeah, I'll do that. Why you speaking funny?"

She paused, and a hand ruffled his forehead once more. "No reason. 'Later, Rin. Get some sleep."

"S'you 'morrow," he yawned, and closed his eyes. The last thing he was aware of was the door creaking quietly open and then closed, and the place on his forehead where she'd kissed him tingled a little.

The next morning, Shura wasn't there.


	7. Der Weg zur Wahrheit

**A/N: **(I'm making this short. My computer hates me, and deleted all the changes I made to this before I was finished. D: )

So...not much to say. Had a lot of free time in school the past week, and therefore wrote because I needed to. I'm really lucky to get all this free time... ^^;;;

For those of you who don't remember, this is what happened last chapter: _Yukio takes the test for a Middle Second Class Meister in Dragoon and Doctor, Rin plays tag with Shura and wonders about her strange, standoffish behaviour, Shura and Fujimoto talk about the boys and what her plans for the future are, the gang celebrates Christmas/the twins' birthday, Rin gets a new, sharp, pointy, specially commisioned katana and Yukio gets two guns-the wisdom of this is never discussed. At the very end of the year, Shura leaves in the middle of the night._

So! Here it is. Enjoy!

Anonymous reviews:

**Deidarathebanana:** ...you have too much to reply tooooo. Were I to reply to everything, you would have something about one or two pages long (sweatdrops) But I want to thank you for all the comments-it's really nice to see what parts you enjoy. And the compliments are amazing, as well as the critiques-I'll do my best to leave that out, which shouldn't be too hard seeing as they're older and not as likely to do that sort of thing...

**Red Rose2: **I do know that many chapters on are much shorter-however, mine are only updated monthly, and I've seen longer that are updated every two weeks. If I were to try doing that... (nearly dies from just thinking about it). Thank you for the compliments! Shiro's alive...for now. You never know, he may suddenly drop dead one chapter and you'll all be without him (cackles before regaining her composure). Anyway, thanks again!

**Hegedu87: **(is very flattered) I'm...I'm really happy that it was so awesome that you stayed up two nights reading this! And I have thought about being an author-actually, that was my dream job when I was in seventh/eighth grade-but I feel like I wouldn't be able to make it. A lot of writing is, the way I see it, stumbling upon an idea that readers like enough to buy a book. I'm not sure I can do that...But thank you anyways! I'd love to continue writing, if only on the side, and plan on taking creative writing classes for the rest of my schooling career!

**leahisasuperhero: **I hate it when that happens! I also hope you find your passwords/remember them again, because that's happened to me several times and the whole process is just _annoying_. Thank you for the compliments and the review!

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven:<em> Der Weg zur Wahrheit<em>

(The Path to Truth)

.

It was official. It _had_ been official for several years, but now there was something added to this Officiousness.

Rin hated paperwork, and there was _nobody_ that was going to convince him _otherwise_.

It was bad enough that he suffered through years and years and _years_ of compulsory schooling, where every other day he had a mountain of homework to work through instead of doing fun things. This became especially apparent when he entered middle school—the most hellish schooling of his life. Upon entering middle school, Rin suddenly discovered something: the difference between the strength of everybody else during years of middle school and the same strength at the end of his elementary school was _staggering_. For a few months, Rin began acquiring far too many bruises and scrapes than was acceptable, despite having been trained to fight since he was young. He'd put up with the ambushes until they started picking on Yukio, who, for some strange, _stupid_ reason, didn't fight back when they did.

After that, Rin chucked homework to the wind and got back at those upstarts who thought that they could beat on _his_ little brother. It had led to the rather unkind misnomer 'demon spawn' or something along those lines, but Rin could ignore the nasty twinges his heart gave whenever he heard it if it was for his brother.

Rin had gotten into a lot of fights since Shura left.

He looked down at his hands, especially at the palm of his right. Pale, barely recognizable marks littered it, and his gaze was unusually blank as he stared at it. He stretched it open, watched the lighter patches stretch in response, and then clenched it again. Sometimes it felt a bit funny, but that was admittedly after he'd spent a couple hours slapping the hell out of a training dummy or two.

_"You're my teacher. 'Course you'd come_._"_

He sat at his desk, hunched over a bit and staring at his suddenly tightly clenched fists. Shura wasn't his teacher anymore—she wasn't going to come again.

A year and a half ago, when she left, his old man had tried to explain it to him. He'd tried to explain why Shura left, but the story had holes and holes and _holes_ in it. In one dark corner of his mind, Rin wasn't sure anymore if she left because of duty, because she didn't have anything more to teach him or because she'd gotten tired of him for a bit. He hadn't forgotten how she'd distanced herself the months before that December, how she'd slowly started to ease herself out of their daily lives. Looking back on it, it was clear what she was doing, but to his almost fourteen year old mind, it was only briefly confusing, and maybe a little worrying. Rin, however, trusted his teacher with all of his being.

If they ever met again…Rin wasn't sure what he'd do, but he was sure that Shura would never get that undying, unquestioning trust again.

A slight breeze fluttered through the open window, ruffling the pages of paper on his desk, and he turned his attention back to them with a scowl.

_Paperwork…_

With a groan, he tipped back in his chair and ruffled his hair, yawning so wide that tears squeezed out of his eyes. One rocking motion later, he let the chair slam back onto all four legs and he reached a hand out for the abandoned pen lying on the ground. He'd dropped it a while ago…In his bent-over position, Rin tilted his head to the side to read the time on wall clock.

_5:47_

Rin straightened in surprise, eyes a little wider than usual and blinking owlishly. He stared at the clock for a few seconds more, mind moving slower than usual. Wait a minute, wasn't his interview at quarter past six?

He was quiet for one moment, then two, as he realized a few things.

He had three pages of information to finish.

He had a suit to put on.

And he had about fifteen minutes to walk.

_…Shiiiiiiit_.

The fifteen-year-old boy flew into action, his pen scratching a scrawling mess across the white paper as he rushed to fill everything out. References? By now, he knew them by heart. Schools attended? Scrawled on a piece of paper tacked to the wall. Interests, hobbies and credentials for the job? It took a bit of thinking, but he could do it pretty fast.

It was on the last page that he came upon the section where he was supposed to list past jobs; what they were, how long he'd held them, and why he'd left. The problem was that, by this time in his life, Rin had held too many jobs to remember and the paperwork _wasn't around_.

Rin suddenly remembered that the last resume he'd filled out had taken about two hours to do because of that last section. In one slow, jerky motion, he dropped the pen on the desk and held his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the papers in an apparent display of despair.

_Think, Rin, think. It's all in there somewhere, you've done this before._ Rin squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could, but the ticking of the clock only seemed to get louder with every time it sounded. The teenager was just about at his wit's end when the door opened with a quiet creak, causing him to whirl around in his chair and blink dazedly at the person who'd entered.

A pair of glasses flashed in the low light of the sun coming in through the window. "You're still working on that, Rin? You have five minutes until you have to be at your interview!"

A mournful sound escaped the young man's mouth, and his head thumped back on the desk, cheek pressing against the paper covering it. "I can't remember…"

Yukio paused, and then moved up behind him with a few steps. "Remember what?"

Rin looked up at his brother over his shoulder and flushed a little in embarrassment before shifting his eyes away and replying sullenly, "I just can't remember."

There was suddenly a hand in his hair, and Yukio pulled his head up gently before sliding the papers from underneath his face away. Despite the way his brother did it, Rin still let out a yelp and instinctively pulled away, which only made things hurt more.

"Hey hey _hey_, what'd you do that for?"

Yukio let go of Rin's head, and it thunked heavily back onto the desktop. As his twin let out another indignant yell, the younger brother only had to glance at the paper and the instructions on it before he gave a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Rin had just whipped around his head to glare at his brother when Yukio picked up the pen and sat down at the other half of the desk—the immaculate, organized part of the desk, in that sensible, ordinary black chair.

"Get changed, Rin," Yukio said, pushing up his glasses and starting to write the information down. "I'll get this down for you."

Rin blinked at his twin once before tears started welling in his eyes. "M-Moly Four-eyes? You're really going to do this?"

A vessel pulsed on Yukio's temple as the boy gritted out, "If you're calling me that, then absolutely not."

After giving a theatrical sniff and rubbing his eyes to get the water out of them, Rin stood up abruptly from his own chair—which had had a can of bright red spray paint taken to it a year or so ago—and dashed over to get the suit Jiborou-san had lent him. As he struggled into it, Yukio fired questions at him.

"You know the Ramen-Delivery Service? Why were you fired again?"

Rin pulled up the slacks and zipped them shut before answering nonchalantly, "'Cause I threw a delivery at some jerks who were picking on some abandoned cats. It'd been the fourth time somethin' like that—the ramen throwing—had happened, so…yeah."

The pen scratched across the paper for a while longer. "And at the supermarket?"

"Hobgoblin was terrorizing some poor girl, and when I chased after it," Rin grunted as he pulled on the white shirt that, for some reason, refused to go on properly, "It and I knocked over a bunch of stuff in the store. The boss wasn't really happy with me."

Yukio let out a noise that sounded like a snort of laughter and muttered something under his breath, but Rin didn't hear it, as engrossed as he was in trying to tie his tie. He'd just managed to prevent it from choking it and had come to the conclusion that it was either sentient or possessed by some unheard of minor demon when Yukio asked the final question. "And what about the WacDonald's job? You were flipping _burgers_, how did you get fired again?"

Rin tore off the necktie and flung it on the ground, his face burning. "Look, I…do I really need to answer that?"

When Yukio turned half-around in his chair and gave him _that look_, Rin knew what the answer was, and he mumbled out what had happened as he pulled on his jacket.

"They weren't really good, so I tried to make them better. Thing was, I kinda messed up and put something spicy on things that weren't supposed to be that way…"

This time, Yukio really _did_ snort in amusement. "And why wasn't it dismissed as a simple mix-up?"

Rin grumbled and looked to the side, reaching over and pocketing his ID card as well as the address of the potential job as he did so. "The spice was on the other side of the cupboard from what I needed."

Yukio snickered, and then turned around and wrote something down on the paper before scanning the entire document once more and then handing it to his younger brother. "If you run, I think you'll get there in time. I'm going to be checking over the Acadamy while you're out and might not be back until later, so you might be in bed by the time I get back."

Rin stuffed the papers into a manila envelope he'd found on his bedside table and looked at Yukio quizzically. "How's that going? Aren't you going to be helping the old Fart with his medical class this year?"

"It's going," Yukio smiled a little before frowning reproachfully at his brother. "You shouldn't go calling Father that, though."

"Old Fart, Dad, whatever," Rin made a dismissive motion with his hand before walking quickly to the door and glancing at the clock.

It read _6:08_.

He scrambled at the doorknob and jerked it open, calling over his shoulder to Yukio, "I'll see you later!"

"Good luck!" Yukio yelled after him, but Rin was halfway to the front door by the time he heard it. He fumbled a couple times with the doorknob before shouting, "I'm off!" and opening the door before slamming it back shut.

The fifteen-year-old glanced down at his watch and cursed before setting off at a sprint, hoping desperately that he would get to his interview on time. A couple blocks down and a right turn or two, Rin found himself next to a narrow street that he knew would lead to the busy center the job was in.

The only problem with this street was both the people and the demons that tended to lurk there. That, and it was absolutely _infested _with Coal Tars, which were annoying at best.

Rin slowed to a stop, the narrow alleyway on his right side. He looked down into the darkness of the street, and then back onto the way he was going to use to get to his interview.

Slowly, he glanced at the watch on his right wrist, and snarled at the time shown. More than anything, he wanted to avoid going down that alley, but…

But being an Exorcist was not a choice for him, and while he would have preferred that job, he had to pay the bills somehow.

Rin wasn't stupid. He'd figured out that he was probably some demon's kid a couple years ago, with the fire and understanding demons and all. What he _couldn't _understand was how Yukio didn't have any such powers. It probably had to do with Yukio's admittedly weaker body and immune system, but that could be a byproduct of _not_ inheriting the demonic power. Rin had never read up further on the subject, because those two pages out of Yukio's textbook had given him such a headache that he wondered if the book had actually been written in some sort of ancient Japanese that was impossible to understand.

The teenager felt his time slipping by, and, bolstered by the comforting feel of the armband on his left wrist, turned right into the alleyway. At that moment, the clouds seemed to shadow the low evening sun, casting the dimness of the street into an even darker, more menacing atmosphere. Rin stiffened, but kept walking further. If he kept a relatively fast pace up for about the next five minutes, he should have been able to get to the job site on time.

Two minutes into the street, of trying to ignore the almost-silent skittering whispers of the Coal Tars as they moved from corner to dark corner and how the walls seemed to close in on the already narrow area, he ran into an obstacle.

"Okumura? Okumura Rin?"

Despite himself, Rin turned and raised an eyebrow at the voice—it was something he'd gotten from Shura, he realized before pushing the thought away, "Yeah?"

The white-haired boy looked vaguely familiar, especially the white bandage wrapped around his forehead and the vivid bruise on his cheek, but Rin's attention was taken directly to the small horns sticking out of his head and the tail whipping around behind him.

Well, that just made his day _so much better_.

"Y'know who I am?"

Rin made sure to keep his face blank as he shortly scrutinized the three boys flanking the white-haired one, who had Coal Tars buzzing around his head like fruit flies around a slab of meat that had been laying in the hot sun all day long. Nobody else showed signs of possession, which was something that Rin was very thankful for. It was very, very hard for Rin to exorcise demons from humans, simply because he couldn't cut them down.

"Not really."

The possessed human's eye twitched before an unnatural grin stretched his face. "It's not that important, I guess, but y'know, you kinda beat me up a few days ago."

Blue eyes blinked before narrowing, and a nasty look crossed Rin's face for a moment. "Oh. The birds."

"Y'know," the white-haired boy said, "that was really overreacting. I'm Shiratori Reiji, by the way…can we talk for a bit"? That unsettling, unnatural grin stayed on his face, and Rin felt the horrible desire to punch it off his face for him.

"Hey, look," Rin said as casually as possible, taking a step in the direction of his goal, "I kinda don't have time today. You know, I've got to get a job and all."

Without another word, Rin turned and started to walk away; as he did so, however, Shiratori yelled after him, "Oh, that's right! You're not going to high school, are you? Dropping out with a Middle School Diploma?"

Rin ignored him.

"But your brother's goin' to True Cross Acadamy, right? That's a real expensive school; I should know. I'm going there too. But I hear he got in on scholarship! How disgusting, relying on the money of others!"

The fifteen-year-old boy stopped short, but did not turn around. Shiratori's voice took on a smug tone as he continued talking and talking and _not stopping_.

"Y'know, it'd really damage my upstanding reputation if word were to get around school that I'd been beat up by a kid who can't get a passing grade in Math. If y'want, I can always give you some money to help pay for your brother's tuition." Rin heard the wallet being pulled out of a pocket, and turned around.

"I don't need your money," Rin said dismissively, relieved that all Shiratori wanted was a promise to keep quiet about something trivial. "Keep it. I'll keep quiet and Yukio'll keep quiet. We're not going to tell anybody about you, 'cause it's not important."

All Rin wanted the possessed boy to do was stop going down the road he thought Shiratori was going down. Rin turned around once more and made to keep going to his interview.

"I can't be sure about that, now can I?"

Rin nearly stopped walking, but told himself firmly that it wasn't worth it. The alleyway seemed to stretch on forever ahead of him, the ash-streaked brick and cement and steel running together with soot-blackened seams.

"Y'know, my dad's got a friend on the Board of Education—he could always restrict that over-nerdy four-eyed freak of a brother from getting into the True Cross Academy."

Rin's eyes widened and he stopped short for the second time, right before a small intersection that he could further choose to navigate the area with, his shoulders tensing up a bit. "…What did you say?"

Looking over his shoulder, Rin saw Shiratori's grin stretch even wider, the boys' faces around the possessed teenager mirroring his expression.

"I said," Shiratori repeated in a louder voice, "I can stop your freaky bro from getting into True Cross and wasting the money there."

Something sparked in Rin's eye, something snapped in Rin's mind, and he very decisively let go of his self control.

The manila envelope dropped to the dirty ground.

* * *

><p>Fujimoto's head snapped up as he heard Rin's farewell cry, and smirked a little as the door slammed shut. The smile on his face widened as Yukio yelled a little too late at his brother to 'Quit slamming doors already, would you!' In the relative silence that followed this exclamation, the cat-flap in the back door slapped against its rim, and he presumed that Kuro had gone out to follow Rin again.<p>

To be honest, he'd seen this situation happening since Rin had started looking for part-time jobs about half a year ago. He would constantly leave things to the last minute and end up being nearly late to his appointments; when the clergy teased him about it, Rin would grow very defensive and spout out the first excuse that came to mind. Fujimoto's favorite was still "Bu-Well-I—It was trying to eat my brain!"

While Fujimoto didn't think that Rin's choice to not continue his educational career was really smart, he did understand that school was a chore—a horrendous trial, really—for the teenager. Perhaps Rin had inherited the brawn and the strength, but he definitely hadn't gotten the pure, scholarly intelligence Yukio possessed. It was for this reason that Fujimoto supported Rin's search for a job—if he didn't want to further attend school, then he needed to find a way to make a living for himself. Being an Exorcist, but not part of the Order, didn't pay bills.

Shiro rubbed the back of his head and stared at his own paperwork without really seeing it. It was a shame Rin couldn't really enter the ranks of the Exorcists—the risk that he would be discovered as Satan's son was too high to enroll Rin in the Cram School without a very, _very_ good reason. Rin was a fair Exorcist as it was; he moved on instinct, which meant that in a fight he was quick to act and he acted _correctly_. He could anticipate and retaliate on a moment's notice against lower-to-mid level demons as well as humans; fortunately or unfortunately, Rin hadn't run into any high-level demons as of yet.

Fujimoto blinked and felt the indescribable urge to knock on his mahogany desk. As covered with papers as it was, he ignored the desire and instead decided to determinedly focus on the mountains of headaches stacked in front of him. Leaning forward, he slid the first paper off the stack closes to him and focused on it, reading through the Roman characters. One of the downsides to working as the Paladin meant that you had to be at least fairly knowledgeable in other languages, especially English; countries often sent in their paperwork in this language, as it was recognized world-wide and therefore there were fewer chances for mistakes to be made.

After he signed off on the second set of English-written documents, one of which was from _Japan itself_, he decided for the umpteenth time that he hated the language. He'd never been a quick study in this certain class in school, and hadn't expected to use it when he became an Exorcist. In the years before Paladin, it was bearable, but now…

Glowering at the paperwork, he resolved to put all the English papers off until the last minute. He'd start with the easiest first—that way, he thought slyly, it would look like he was actually getting more _done_.

As he started rifling through the papers in search of a Japanese, or even _Chinese_, document, he heard a knock on his door. Confused, but grateful for the interruption (he couldn't help it if somebody had to talk to the strongest Exorcist in the whole Order, right?), he called out, "Come in."

The door swung open, and a person he hadn't expected to see in a while was revealed leaning against the doorframe.

"Well hello, handsome," the familiar drawl was strangely comforting, as was the sly, lazy grin. "Long time no see."

Fujimoto stood up abruptly from his comfortable chair. "Shura!"

She pushed off the frame and walked inside, the same stride as before and the same confidence rippling through every motion and movement she made. Shura nudged the door shut with her foot behind her before continuing on to one of the black-upholstered easy-chairs in his room and collapsing on it. "Aaaah," she sighed, "I missed this chair!"

"…Shura?" He repeated, this time in question. She looked at him upside-down with wide eyes, the reddish tips of her hair clashing a little with the dark red painted walls around them, but something…

There was something different about her, Fujimoto realized. Something tighter about the eyes and the mouth, something a little more wary in her movements. There was something wrong.

"…Shura. What's happened?"

The wide eyes blinked away in only a moment, and she pulled herself upright, pouting a little but with the same tenseness in her limbs. "Yer no fun, Shiro," she complained. "What, we can't spend some time chattin' it up and reminiscing about the good times?"

Fujimoto sighed. "I suppose we could, but if you need to tell me something, you should tell it to me. We can spend another time sitting in front of the fireplace, drinking a couple of beers and talking about the 'good old days' and 'those whippersnappers today'," he imitated the voice of his late uncle in the last days before his passing before returning to a more serious tone, "but if there's something that needs to be said, then I'd rather hear it now than later."

An ache lingered in his head, and he rubbed his temples for a few moments before looking back at his former pupil.

She looked at him for a long, long moment. "Yer look older, Shiro. Like, around the eyes," she gestured, "and in the hair. Are yer doin' okay?"

"Don't try to change the subject," he said, but softened. "I'm not as young as I used to be, I guess."

"And?" Shura flopped over again, but this time belly down and head right-side-up. She tucked her hands under her chin and raised her eyebrows. "What else? I'm not a fool, Shiro-chan."

Fujimoto raised his eyebrows in return. "Shiro-_chan_?"

She shrugged, and gestured for him to go on.

The Paladin sat back down in his chair and gazed blankly at the paperwork before him, feeling suddenly tired and more downtrodden than before. "I get the feeling," he started slowly, "That they're keeping important information from me."

Shura glanced towards Fujimoto's desk pointedly. "They're _keeping _information from yer? Yer sure about that?"

He nodded. "It's more than they're keeping important information—they're flooding me with meaningless _squabble_. Take this, for example," he pulled up a report and handed it to her. She untucked one of her hands and took the paperwork. After a moment of reading, she looked up at him in disbelief. "_This_ is what they're sending you?"

"Yes."

Shura made a disgusted noise and untucked the other hand before massaging her head with it. "My _God_, they're sendin' yer reports on th' number of hobgoblins in Russia? What the hell? That's nowhere _near_ important enough for yer! That's low-level office stuff!"

"You think I don't know this?" Fujimoto ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Ever since two years ago, more and more of this crap comes through. They want to keep me busy and they want me to keep my nose out of important things!"

"I knew it was bad," Shura started slowly, letting the papers drop to the hardboard floor. "But not _this_ bad."

The Paladin raised his eyebrows at his former pupil. "What do you mean?"

"They're keepin' a close eye on yer and yer church, Shiro. In fact, they're putting two undercover agents in next semester's Cram class—wanna guess who they are?"

Fujimoto shook his head, "Not really…"

Shura opened her mouth to answer, but they were interrupted by a frantic scratching on the door. Two seconds later, a cat began yowling in distress once the door wasn't opened immediately.

Rising immediately, Fujimoto navigated around the desk as quickly as he could and then stumbled over to the door, opening it swiftly. A black blur shot in, wound around his legs while meowing plaintively before darting back out. It was only a few moments before Kuro repeated this same process with the same agitation in his wide green eyes, which flitted from the bookshelves on either side of the room to the dark red shag-rug carpet on the ground and back up to Fujimoto. His two tails were lashing furiously, and Fujimoto felt something cold go down his back.

Kuro had gone after Rin.

Rin had gone to work.

This should be no problem, but Kuro had come back distressed and, as far as Fujimoto could tell, incredibly worried.

"I'm sorry, Shura," he said as he crossed the room and pulled out his shoes, "but it seems as though there's trouble again."

She blinked, looking like the picture of carelessness were it not for the tightening of her eyes and mouth. "He always does this when I'm around, doesn't he?"

"You don't know the half of it," Fujimoto joked, lacing up his combat boots as quickly as possible. "He's been absolutely horrid since you left."

He stood from his crouch and turned to stalk out the door, but paused and looked back at the cabinet, sandwiched between two floor-to-ceiling dark oak bookshelves, where Kurikara lay, folded in cloth and concealed from prying eyes. Fujimoto hesitated only a moment more before he tore himself away from the need to check and see if the flames were activated.

If he were late—one second too late—and Rin had gotten himself into a fight he couldn't handle, then he would never forgive himself.

"I'll let myself out then!" Shura yelled. "Talk to yer later, Fujis!"

But by that time, Fujimoto Shiro was out the door and running after Kuro.

* * *

><p>Before he knew it, Rin had rushed forward, anger the only thing at the front of his mind, anger at the possessed human being who was stupid enough to threaten his absent brother. If Shiratori had known Rin, then he should have known <em>not to do that<em>.

Before he knew it, he'd coiled the muscles in his body and drew his arm back before snapping it forward with all the power he could muster. It was only the split second realization of 'oh shit, he's human still' that made him draw back as much as he could. Even then, his fist hit the other boy's cheek with considerable force, and Shiratori staggered back a couple steps before falling onto his butt, eyes somewhat wide in surprise.

Before he knew it, he was towering over the boy on the ground, whose lackeys were only just registering that Shiratori was on the ground, and he was shaking with fury.

"Don't you _dare_," Rin's voice shook as he spoke, "Don't you _dare_ threaten my brother! Say what you want to me and about me, but _never_ about my brother!"

One of the lackeys took a step forward, but Rin glared at him and he stopped, flinching as though the fifteen-year-old had lashed a dangerous hand out at him. Rin felt that hot hot anger rising up in him, sizzling through his veins and burning at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to care about it.

A growl came from beneath him, and Rin looked back down to where Shiratori Reiji lay on the dark pavement, one hand covering his eyes. "That…_That hurt, you little shit_!"

Caught off guard, Rin was flung back with a power that couldn't have been human in nature. He hit the ground and skidded to a stop, his back aching and his head hurting and his ears buzzing from the force of the blow. Through blurry eyes, he looked up at the crouching figure about ten meters away. The vision shook as the white-haired boy's friends bent over him, worried.

"Hey, Reiji-san, everything good?"

"Where'd the bastard hit you?"

Another growl filled the air and shook it. Even the Mashou-less teenagers felt it, unease flickering across their faces. Shiratori's body started to shake, and Rin remembered the possession of an old, mourning woman that had happened a few months ago.

"Shit," he breathed, chest aching and heart banging.

The barely noticeable horns on Shiratori's head grew out into something like a ram's, his ears elongated and the cartilage at the end changed from rounded to pointed, and his fingernails lengthened, blackened, became claw-like. A thrumming sound resounded in Rin's ears and chest and head even as Shiratori's lackeys hesitated and stepped back, somehow sensing that _something_ had changed.

"…Reiji-kun?"

A heartbeat later, the pressure suddenly lifted as the transformation was complete, and Rin's head pounded in rhythm with his heart. This was bad. If the demon had completely taken over Shiratori Reiji, he wasn't going to be able to do it on his own without harming the human, and without revealing his flames. A little after Shura had left, Fujimoto had lifted the restrictions on his necklace, saying things like "_I believe you can handle it_" and _"Just keep it in, okay? Flames are good to use on the lesser, less intelligent demons, but once you hear one able to talk coherently, it's better to not use them_."

The problem with this was that the better they spoke, the harder they were to kill. Rin's flames were powerful—he knew _that_ much, even if he didn't know where they came from. Apparently, though, they were something that would get them to talk to other demons and suddenly he wouldn't be able to sleep. That's why he was so worried about this exorcism; when a demon possesses a human, they're generally strong, and that much harder to hit with the butt of his sword hilt.

Plus, the alleyway was narrow, so narrow that it would be impossible to wield his sword with as much ease as he was used to—almost impossible to use it at _all_.

His cell phone hung heavily in his pants pocket as he staggered to his feet, breathing a little harder than usual. He could call his father, have him take care of this mess, have him help him get out of—

Rin's eyes narrowed. _No_. He was _not_ going to rely on his father, he wasn't going to let something like a higher-level demon stop him from getting the job done.

Even if it wasn't official, even if he earned nothing but scars and pain and tears from it, Rin considered himself an Exorcist. And an Exorcist did his job.

Shiratori's eyes narrowed at Rin, an unholy grin on his face. "Well, you shitty little bastard, you ready?"

Rin blinked, shaken out of his reverie. "Wha—?"

He felt his knees get kicked out from under him, and twisted automatically to try to regain control, but was unable to quite absorb the force of the fall with his arms before they were also wrenched out from underneath him and held down. Rin quickly turned his head to the side and squinted his eyes shut before his cheek made contact with the ground hard and a short flash of pain burst across his face. Something sticky spread slowly across the ground underneath him, and he winced as the rough ground pressed into his raw skin.

"We've got him, Reiji-san!" Dreadlocks cried from where he was sitting on Rin, his knee digging into Rin's back. "We've got the demon spawn!"

Rin looked up at Shiratori, who had a speculative look cross his face before it returned to a sneering, angry, expression. Something cold and dark fell in his stomach, and Rin suddenly became desperate to escape the situation.

He jerked his right arm out of one boy's grasp and twisted, ignoring the pain that flared in his back in favor of reaching for the armband exposed from underneath the scuffed and dirty sleeve of the suit.

His fist held over the insignia, he closed his eyes and thought as furiously as he could, _I need Tsunagari_.

There was a soft, brief flash of light, a tugging at his wrist, and suddenly the hilt of a katana was held in his hand. With one wide motion, he pulled the blade out of the other dimension and hit the boy on his back with the back of the blade. A crack sounded and Rin dimly felt the ribs bend and break under the pressure of his blow. Dreadlocks fell over with several loud cries of pain that retreated into a low sobbing. The boy still holding Rin's left arm let go of it abruptly and took a step away from him, eyes fearful. With a fierce expression on his face, Rin stood and placed his back against the sooty cement wall, eyes flicking from Shiratori to the boy on the ground to the two still standing and then all over again.

"My _ribs_!"

"He…He has a sword!"

"Where the hell did he get it from?"

The other boys backed away slowly before running away as fast as they could, ignoring Dreadlock's cries.

"Take me with you! Don't leave me here, help!"

Shiratori took two decisive steps forward, an ugly expression on his face, and kicked Dreadlocks in the side, snarling, "Shut up!" as he did so. Rin's eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself off the wall as Dreadlocks retched, turning slowly over to his stomach as he did so.

"Oi! Leave him alone."

The white-haired teen looked at him with disgust curling his lip. "You don't tell me what to do, you cocky little bastard. Oh, wait," he took in the katana Rin held in his right hand, surveyed the symbols that ran up and down its length, and snarled out, "you're one of those little fuckers, aren't you? Those Exorcists." He spat out the word 'Exorcists' as if it dirtied his mouth to say it. The Coal Tars flew agitatedly around his head at the sight of the sword, and tended to migrate more _behind_ the possessed teenager than _in front of_.

A grin suddenly flitted across his face, and his expression turned from disgust to mocking superiority. "So, if I do something like this," He raised a foot and positioned it over Dreadlock's extended right leg, "You'll get real fucking mad, right?"

"Wait, don—" Rin's eyes widened and he took a step forward, but wasn't able to do anything as Shiratori's foot came down onto Dreadlock's jean-clad leg. The skin broke and blood spurted out of the wound as the force of the blow cracked Dreadlock's femur in two.

Only a split second of silence preceded the horrible, horrible screaming the human boy let out, his eyes wide with pain, his tears spilling onto the ground just as fast as his blood.

Rin's pupils dilated, and he launched himself at Shiratori, the end of his hilt aimed at the boy's head—before he hurt the host, he had to get the demon _out of there_. He was angry, so angry, and the fury from earlier bubbled up and over and stung with every movement he made. Reiji deflected the hilt with one powerful blow and in doing so pushed Rin off balance. A kick to the gut later, and Rin went flying diagonally into the wall. He slammed against it and pain flared and writhed in his left shoulder the moment it hit it. Rin grunted back a scream and fell to the ground.

_Shit. Shit, it's dislocated_, he realized dimly as he pushed himself up with his right arm. _There goes half of my strike power right there_.

"Re—Reiji?" A scared, raw voice trembled, and it was only then that Rin noticed that the screaming had stopped. He looked at Dreadlocks on the ground under Shiratori's foot, who was looking down at the other boy with a bored expression on his face. As Rin followed the injured, normal human's gaze, he paled a shade.

Dreadlock's eye were riveted on the horns growing out of Shiratori Reiji's head.

"Yeah, you little shit?"

"Wha—_What the hell is that?_" Dreadlocks let out a shriek of horror as Shiratori's tail swiped from behind him. The possessed teenager looked a little surprised for a moment, before understanding crossed his features.

"I guess that _is _technically a Mashou…" Shiratori smirked, and then placed more pressure on Dreadlock's leg. The boy let out an agonized scream, and Rin's eyes narrowed even as his blood ran hotter and hotter. "Do you wanna know who I am, you weak son of a bitch? Huh?" The demon leaned down, his eyes wide and mocking even as a smirk twisted his face into something less human. "My name's _Astaroth_. You know, the _demon_."

The pressure increased, Dreadlock's screams rose in pitch and intensity, and Rin dimly heard the sound of approaching people.

He was angry—so angry, and he needed to get this demon away from people and somewhere he could fight them. The problem was that Rin wasn't sure that if he ran, Astaroth would follow—after all, Rin was an 'exorcist' and couldn't leave innocents at the hand of a demon. He could have _sworn_ he'd heard the name before, but couldn't place it for the life of him.

Sirens rang in the distance, and Rin staggered to his feet, remembering something dangerous, something that had consequences he didn't know the specifics of.

_"Some people will be really scared of you when you do that."_

Eyes stern, he gritted his teeth and popped his shoulder back into place before biting back a scream of pain. He let out a slow, shaky breath and did his best to ignore the throbbing before he stepped forward.

"Hey, bastard," Rin growled loudly, catching Shiratori's attention for a moment. "How about you get your stinking foot off of his leg?"

_ "Others may get really mad and try to hurt you."_

Shiratori's tail swept through the air once, then twice, in an amused motion. "Why should I, _Exorcist_? What the hell're you gonna do to make me?"

Rin grinned dangerously, expression all sharp angles and burning intensity. "I'm going to do this."

With only one last thought about how he was so glad the pendant he still wore had been stripped of real 'magic', he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then let the burning feeling override his senses.

When he opened his eyes, he looked straight into the surprised, shocked eyes of Shiratori, whose pressure on Dreadlock's leg had lessened. Rin grin grew wider, sharper, and he said in a low tone, "Catch me if you can, you stupid demon."

Without another word, he dashed away back up the street and then to the left, a goal in mind and remembering all the while the last part of what Fujimoto had told him nine years ago.

Behind him, he heard Shiratori breath something and then take up pursuit.

_"Others, the weird-looking ones, will try to take you away somewhere."_

That's the part he was counting on the most.

* * *

><p>Jiborou was <em>so going to kill him<em> when he returned this suit, Rin knew it. He simply _knew_ it. It had been joking at the time, but when the clergyman had lent it to Rin, he told him that if he found one thread out of place, Jiborou would make Rin _pay_.

The scuff marks on the back of the jacket and the tears down the knees weren't making Rin very confident of his survival once Jiborou got a hold of him…

"Where are you, Exorcist?" a roar came from behind him, a mix of glee and hatred and, oddly enough, _reverence_. "Where are you, young lord? I'm going to _take you back_!"

Panting, Rin ripped off his jacket and flung it to the side as he turned the corner, running into the large, out-of-the-way area that he enjoyed practicing in—lots of junk and boxes and crates to make an obstacle course out of, or to beat the hell out of, or just to use as part of the environment. The ceiling, which was really only a maze of pipes and metal gridwork and steel beams, stretched high above him. The biggest downfall to this area was that there was only one escape—through the large, metal-fence gates now behind him.

Rin flung himself behind some crates in the left corner of the room nearest to the exit, tightly gripping his weapon and trying to slow his breath down. The possessed delinquent was freakin' _fast_, and it had taken a lot out of Rin to just keep ahead of the stupid guy.

He did not have a good feeling about this fight.

With a deep, shaky breath, he concentrated and _pulled_ on the flames, pulled them back into himself and extinguished their light from the human world.

The pounding footsteps suddenly slowed and lightened, before evening out to a dangerous prowl right outside the gates.

"My young lord," The demon called, voice deceptively quiet. Underneath the tone there, however, Rin heard something slithering and unnerving and _dangerous_, and remained where he was.

Besides, all this use of 'My young lord' and stuff was creeping Rin out. In fact, the whole hate-love-whatever thing going on with this demon was _really _creeping Rin out.

"My young lord, they have _tainted_ you, haven't they? They've whispered lies and offered _hopes_ and _dreams_ to you, haven't they?" 'Hopes' and 'dreams' were pronounced in a half-mocking, half-disgusted tone.

_What the hell is he talking about_? Rin thought, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _What's this about lies, and why is he calling me his 'young lord'?_

He paled. _Oh, please don't let him be gay and have some sort of obsession with feudalistic terms of address…_ only three months ago, when he was on an exorcising trip with Yukio, they'd run into a demon similar. The big difference was that this demon had an obsession with crossdressing its partners before sucking the life out of them, and Yukio had fallen victim to the first half before they could blink. Rin's only regret was that he hadn't managed to take blackmail pictures.

No, make that one of two regrets—he wished he could have closed his eyes before the demon had managed to wrestle Yukio into a lip lock two split seconds before the aforementioned teenager had furiously shot the demon's chest three times with his special demon-targeting bullets. He'd then continued to waste about two rounds worth of bullets on the human's exorcised body in his anger. Rin had, at that moment, reminded himself that to mess with Yukio was a very, _very_ dangerous thing to do.

As a possessed Shiratori Reiji cautiously entered the practice area, Rin almost wished Yukio was with him…

The footsteps stopped in the middle of the 'clearing', and with his limited vision through the crack of two crates, Rin saw Asta-what's-his-name raise his arms to the sky.

"Those damned _Exorcists_!" He screamed, and Rin winced from the intensity of it. "They have turned you against us, turned you against _your people_! Young Lord," Shiratori spun around slowly, critically examining every single part of the area they were in, "if you allow me, I will teach you the truth! I will show you the way to it! I will lead you down the road you were always meant to take!"

Rin was quiet, his brow furrowed and his mind racing. What the _hell_ was this guy going on about? Rin may have been part demon, but he surely wasn't _that_ important to demonkind. He'd have to be the kid of one of those big baddies, and while their children were powerful—from what he remembered—they weren't particularly _revered_ because they were the offspring of such important demonic figures. They were_ revered_ because if a lower demon didn't show the proper respect, they'd get themselves _killed_. The Demon World, from what Rin understood, was based off of power and strength more than anything else.

"_I will tell you the truth!_"

The teenager snorted in disbelief, and then cursed mentally as Astaroth's head swiveled towards him, a strange expression on his face. "Young Lord," he said quietly, and extended his hand out towards the stack of crates where Rin hid, "let us go to your father."

Knowing his cover was blown, Rin stood from his crouched position but stayed behind his barrier. "Sorry," he said, "but I've got no idea what the hell you're talking about. So, can we just, I dunno, get you out of that body, say 'bye and all that?"

The sweat on the palm of his hand made the grip of his katana slick. He hid his nervousness, his knowledge that he was up against an opponent he couldn't hope to beat unless he kept fighting and fighting against people like Astaroth and he kept _surviving _by some strange twist of fate. He hid it and instead grinned a little, projecting as much bravado as he could.

"…You don't know who you are, young lord, do you?" The crazily swearing demon of before was gone, replaced with this quieter, stranger version. In fact, this version was almost scarier—because it was so _atypical_, from what Rin had seen so far.

Rin completely did not understand demons, especially _this_ one. In fact, he kind of regretted pulling out the flames—if it made all inhabitants of Gehenna this bipolar, then Fujimoto was most definitely right to keep Rin from practicing without him when everything changed nine years ago.

Astaroth snarled over Rin's shoulder, and though Rin then had the urge to check his back, he knew that the only thing behind him was the wired mesh fence. However, Rin shuffled out from behind the crates, which stacked one on top of the other in a rickety mess—it was rather tight, stuck between the fence and the pile, and Rin wanted to be able to move just in case things went wrong.

After all, this demon was being bipolar, and Rin knew enough from the girls in his class that bipolar meant unpredictability.

"Those damned Exorcists didn't tell you what your lineage was!" In a few quick, purposeful strides, Astaroth tried the distance between him and Rin, forcing Rin to scramble up the mountain of crates and leap over the possessed boy. As he dodged the crates knocked over in Rin's rush to escape, Shiratori's clawed hand reached up but barely missed the hem of Rin's dress pants. Even as the demon turned and lunged, Rin hit the ground and rolled to the side, causing Shiratori to miss him.

"You're being lied to!"

Rin grunted and rose swiftly to his feet before quickly swinging his left foot behind him and shifting his body sideways, avoiding the heavy punch the possessed teenager sent him. He ducked as Shiratori followed up with a kick, and then lashed out with his sword, barely cutting the other boy's lower shin before the demon leapt away, snarling in anger.

"You are _blinded_ by their _lies_!"

The fifteen-year-old stood again and settled into a balanced stance, his katana low and ready to slice at the demon if there were any aggressive moves made. Rin made note of all the junk on the ground, just in case he could use any of it without putting himself in a bad spot—even though flipping a metal bar into his opponent's face looked cool in his head, it wouldn't if it didn't work and the demon managed to get to him because of him being unbalanced.

Shiratori's deformed face kept flickering between ruthless anger and sly joy, his fingers kept twitching and his tail kept jerking through the air as though uncertain of how to correctly act. "All they want to do is _use you as a weapon._ The Exorcists don't really want you in their ranks—they just want to use you against your own _KIND_!"

Rin twitched, suddenly a little angry. "I'm sorry," the words flew out of his mouth coldly, "but I don't really have a license."

His inability to be an Exorcist irked him, and was a rather sore point when it was pointed out—directly or indirectly.

"Then why? Why do you not _listen_ to me?" Shiratori lunged at him, drool flying out of his mouth and baring his sharpened fangs at Rin, who ducked around the demon's move and hit him in the back with his hilt. The demon screamed, but was not expelled—and Rin became very very worried.

On Tsunagari's hilt, there was a rune or symbol or something weird that basically forced the demon out of a body and back into Gehenna (Rin hadn't listened to his old man's explanation very closely). He didn't like using it much, mostly because it hurt the host as well as the demon, but if it got the demon out then it was the lesser evil. Every time Rin had used it so far, it had worked—simply because, as far as he understood it, his power at the time was stronger than those he exorcised.

…Every time before, he was _stronger_.

_…Oh, **shit**._

As fast as he could, Rin retreated upon stumbling upon this revelation, determined to keep at least a sword's length between him and his opponent. However, despite the apparent difference between their strengths…

Rin would not run.

If Rin ran, how many more would be hurt? How much chaos would this demon spread? Besides, after revealing his power, there was no going back; Rin got the feeling that now that this demon knew what he could do, the demon wouldn't stop at trying to catch Rin until the demon himself was forced back into Gehenna.

Astaroth growl at Rin, a crazed expression in his eyes and a distorted snarl creasing his face. "That fucking _HURT!"_

Faster than before, the demon slammed into Rin, pushing him to the ground with such force that the liquid from his stomach was forced up and out of his body and his ears rang and vision swam.

Tsunagari was kicked out of his grip, the trusty katana sliding and scraping about two meters before it finally stopped. Rin choked and tried to reach out to it, but his hand was forced down.

"Don't even try it, you motherfucker," Astaroth snarled, "don't you even _dare_. You may be _his_ son, but _I'm _the King of Rot!"

As Rin's eyes widened in recognition, Astaroth breathed in his ear, "_And you'd do fucking well to remember it, you son of a bitch_."

Rin's only thought was that he had to get out of there, he had to get away from him and get Tsunagiri back. He started hyperventilating, his eyes widened and his pupils contracted in a fear he hadn't felt ever before.

Without his permission, the flames roared to life around him and Astaroth jerked back, hissing as the flames burned him and _burned _him. The mass of Coal Tars flocking around his face were immediately reduced to a third of their original size, and the flames, fed by the sheer amount of fuel, roared higher and stronger than before. Startled, Rin struggled to regain control, but the fire was more wild, held more emotion than it had even when he was six and scared and confused. He gritted his teeth and pulled at his power, reining it in as best as he could before it was reduced to dancing agitatedly over his arms and hair and fingers.

He returned his attention to his opponent to see the demon looking at him as though in awe, which quickly changed to bewilderment. "How do you not _know_?" the demon wondered.

"Know what?" Rin asked warily, his gut and throat burning, his wrist sore as he slowly climbed into a crouch. His eyes flicked to Tsunagari and back, trying to calculate how long he would need until he could retrieve his weapon. Or if he _could_ retrieve it.

He could feel his chances of getting out dwindling by the second.

"Your father! His deed of fifteen and a half years ago, his wonderful purge of the humans in Assiah! _Lord Satan!_"

Rin blinked. "Hah?"

Out of the corner of his eye, something long and black flickered in and out of the shadows, but he didn't take his attention off the greater danger in front of him.

The demon looked at him as though he couldn't believe Rin's reaction. Astaroth opened his mouth to speak, but a powerful, booming voice echoed around Rin's makeshift battleground.

_"Evil dwells within this heart. Let each be judged according to his deeds."_

Rin's head swiveled around, and there he was—his old man in all of his glory, showing up to save the day for the umpteenth time in his life. Part of him was glad to see Fujimoto Shiro, but another part was childishly disappointed—_he_ wanted to prove that he was strong, _he_ wanted to be the one to show up just on time and save the day.

When Fujimoto's eyes landed upon Rin, though, Rin felt horribly horribly _ashamed_ and _guilty_ for these latter thoughts, because he saw the fear and worry in those brown eyes and how his left hand shook subtly, how it twitched towards Fujimoto's waist for a weapon that was not there.

_Rin!_ An overjoyed voice called, and suddenly Rin had a Nekotama on his lap. _Rin, you're alive!_

"Of course I'm alive," Rin said quietly, still keeping a wary eye on the showdown happening in front of him. "Did you have that little faith in me?"

"You're an _Exorcist_!" cried Astaroth, focusing completely on the new threat. "You're the one who fed the young lord lies!"

As Kuro bristled, Rin saw something flicker across Fujimoto's eyes, before they went cold and Fujimoto continued chanting.

_"Let sinful conduct beget retribution. Let each pay for that which he has taken. Bring down thy justice upon him."_

Understanding the danger before him, Astaroth leapt at the older man, snarling and cursing as he nimbly avoided all the tripping hazards around him. "I'll shut that shitty cursing mouth of yours!"

The Paladin dodged and blocked with an ease and grace that were at odds with his aging appearance but proved _why_ he had been chosen as the strongest Exorcist.

"_Smite them that they shall never rise again; Blessed be the lord. My prayer has been answered; the lord is my helper, and he is my shield._"

Astaroth made a mistake—he extended one clawed hand too far too fast, and Fujimoto pounced upon the opportunity immediately. He lashed out and held fast onto the possessed teenager's arm before using the momentum to throw the demon off balance. He threw the boy over his knee and delivered a powerful, but still restrained blow aimed only to stun. The demon fell to the earth, coughing and sputtering.

Fujimoto paused in his recitation of verse, and looked down at the demon with an unreadable expression on his face.

"And you," he started—had Rin not known him better, he wouldn't have been able to detect the slight tremble in his voice— "you tried to take _my child_ away from me."

Astaroth rolled to his stomach in a weak attempt to start getting up. "_He's not yours_," he rasped out.

Kuro snarled more audibly, but kept himself firmly seated in Rin's lap—automatically, Rin ran a soothing hand down the cat demon's back, trying his best to calm his friend down. At the same time, he pulled his wilder-than-normal flames in one by one with as much concentration as he could spare—even if his old man was the 'strongest of the Exorcists', that didn't mean mistakes couldn't be made, and Astaroth _was_ the King of Rot…

Fujimoto's eyes narrowed and the lines around his mouth grew harder for only a moment before he took in a deep breath, then let it out. _"Demon,_" he said as calmly as possible. "_Perish where you stand._"

The boy went suddenly, deathly still, and then after only a heartbeat he arched his back and opened his mouth wide. Something dark and disgusting flew out of his mouth even as the ram's horns started to crumble away, the tail withered and disintegrated and the pointed claws darkened even further before falling off to leave the human nails underneath completely intact. The Coal Tars, which had constantly orbited around him, drifted away slowly even as the mass of black that had emerged from Shiratori's mouth thinned out until it were no longer there.

Shiratori stayed that way for one, two more moments, before finally seeming to lose all energy. He collapsed onto the cement heavily, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Fujimoto knelt by the formerly possessed boy and swatted away a few remaining Coal Tars. He grasped Shiratori by the shoulders and gently turned him over before checking his temperature and frowning a little.

"He's a little warm…that's common after such possessions, but just to be safe…" the Paladin pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. "Hello? Is this medical? I've got a boy who's unconscious here…it's a little out of the way from Southern Cross Street in True Cross Campus Town. It's a small construction area near the Niyashimi Supermarket. You'll be here soon? Good. I'll be here until he's on the way to the hospital. Thank you." Fujimoto ended the call and pocketed the phone again.

Rin remained on the ground, holding Kuro in his lap and concentrating fully on pulling the remaining flames back in. He didn't want to look at the man who had cared for him his entire life, didn't want to see the disappointment or guilt.

On the other hand, he wanted answers.

"Old man," he started to ask in a quiet, low voice, "what the hell was that demon talking about?"

Fujimoto stilled suddenly. "What do you mean?"

His hand still stroking Kuro's back, Rin continued, "That thing about my 'father'. And about turning me against my people, and why the _hell_," he suddenly rose his voice, "did he keep calling me his 'young lord'?"

Kuro pressed his head against Rin's stomach in distress, and Rin took in a deep breath. He let it out, then looked up at Fujimoto, whose eyes were shadowed by the tilt of his head.

"What have you been _keeping_ from me?" Rin asked, and even though he tried his best not to, his voice cracked and seemed to scream betrayal.

The Paladin looked at him immediately, and started forward before hesitating. Seeing this, Rin gritted his teeth and looked down.

There was a long silence before Fujimoto started speaking.

"I wanted to protect you. I wanted to give you as normal a life as possible. I—"

"I'd already figured out I was the son of some sort of demon," Rin interjected hotly. "I'm not as smart as Yukio, but I'm not retarded. Blue fire isn't exactly Exorcist-ish."

Fujimoto let out a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. "I'm guessing you looked at one of Yukio's books."

Rin couldn't quite hide the wince as he remembered the experience, and the older man chuckled a little before falling silent again.

"I'm sorry, Rin." Fujimoto said quietly, as though those three words would solve everything. "I-I don't want to tell you the details now, just because there will be so many people around. But once you hear the first truth, you'll want to hear the rest."

His hand clenched briefly in Kuro's fur. "Try me."

In the distance, they heard the sound of sirens wailing, coming ever closer and closer, and Rin had the sudden thought that they were warning him against the truth. A chill went down his spine.

Fujimoto took in a deep breath, and his face became suddenly old and somewhat weary as he opened his mouth.

"Rin…you're Satan's son."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **And the truth is revealed!

One note: Students in Japan only technically have to go to school until High School-that's optional. Advised and often done, yes, but optional.


	8. Die Schatten sind echt

**A/N: **..(grins sheepishly)

Okay. Okay, I'm late again, and this time it's because I didn't have the chapter finished...I would say that I was on a program trip in my defense, but I had plenty of time in the afternoons...

...Still, if you count the fact I wrote on the train, I think it was an admirable effort-especially on the way back. God, I hate long train rides...long rides...(feels wierd on them)

I hope that everybody feels in character-I'm honestly really, really worried about Rin in the fourth part of this chapter. I don't...you'll see.

REVIEW REPLIES:

**yournewfan:** Cliffhangers are a two-sided coin, in my opinion; both beautiful and horrible at the same time. And...and those compliments...I don't think I'm that amazing, but it still puts a wriggly warmth in my heart to see you say that. (prays for it to get better and better) THE PLOT THICKENS! Thank you for the review!

**anon: **You're not the first person to tell me that the Astaroth scene was done well-thank you! And Grace is not the only thing in life! In fact, were everything graceful, the world would be pretty dang boring, I think. (blushes) I know that problem very well-it's hard to remember everything that's happened in a previous chapter! I'll still do a whole 'this is what happened last chapter' thing, but thank you! I'll update...and I'll do my best not to abandon...but I can never ever promise that it won't be late. 3;;;

**Red Roses2: **Shiro's fate...was sealed this chapter. (grins) And too much effort? I mean, I think that this wasn't that bad-yes. IT took a few hours. It took more than a few hours. But it's honestly not that bad...If I had a hell of a lot of time and pressure or determination, I could definitely write a chapter at least every two days. Thing is, I don't have most of those...time is the most lacking, and I am a horrible procrastinater. (looks at paper that's due on Friday and shudders)

LAST TIME:

_Rin professes his undying hate for paperwork and leaves the house late for an interview only to run into Shiratori and company. Shiratori's obviously possessed or on the verge of being possessed, Rin makes to leave before the other teenager says something stupid and invites Rin's wrath to rain down upon him, Fujimoto and Shura have a secret surprise meeting in the Paladin's study, Kuro is the bearer of bad news and cuts the meeting short, and Rin gets beat up a bit by Shiratori. The guy gets taken over by Astaroth, who recognizes Rin as an exorcist and decides to beat up on his hosts buddy, gruesomely breaking his leg. Rin is stupid, releases his flames, and gets Shiratori to chase him. There is a moment where Rin believes that Astaroth may be gay due to a past experience and the continuous titles of 'My Young Lord', but this is never confirmed. Rin quickly realizes he's in deep kimchee, Fujimoto shows up to save the day, and Rin finally finds out that he's the son of Satan._

I hope you enjoy, despite it being so late! Also, things were changed last chapter due to continuity and logical reasons-they're small details, but they were changed nonetheless. Thank you to those who pointed them out! (Mostly my sister...but still)

AND BECAUSE I KEEP FORGETTING: The world and characters and the basis of all of this all belong to Kazue Katou-however, the storyline as it is in this story does have my influence in it. I am making no money off of this.

*EDIT 7-22-14: Used the transfer button to correct the chapter title again.

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Eight:<span>_ Die Schatten sind echt_

(The Shadows are Real)

.

"Satan's…son?" Rin felt his gut fall from under him, the only things anchoring him to reality being his old man's face and the warm presence of Kuro under his hand. Unconsciously, it clenched and burrowed itself into the Nekotama's skin and fur.

Fujimoto nodded.

Rin, for all his lack of knowledge about the Exorcising World and for all his lack of _desire_ to study about such things, knew who Satan was. It was impossible not to—he was the big baddie, the worst of the worst and the strongest of all Demons. Rin had always wondered what it would be like to fight Satan when he was younger, pictured himself triumphing over a comically muscular, red, indistinct being, but now that he was older he knew how far-fetched that dream was. However, with the revelation he was Satan's son…

His head snapped up. "Yukio! What about Yukio?"

"He didn't inherit the flames," Fujimoto explained over the rising din of the ambulance. "Now—I'm not sure they will hear out whatever excuse I come up with if you and your sword are here…go home. I'll meet up with you there and explain—_hurry_!"

Rin got up to his feet uneasily, the pain in his shoulder returning in a throbbing rising din as Kuro leapt effortlessly to the ground. _Come on, Rin!_ the Nekotama yowled before turning and bounding out of the gate as Rin slowly went to his sword and picked it up. _I'll race you home_!

The teenage boy hesitated, looking back at Fujimoto. He opened his mouth, but was so numb that he didn't know what to say. How are you supposed to express such bitter betrayal, anyways?

Fujimoto looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Go!"

His jaw suddenly clenched, Rin turned and left, darting out and navigating his way home at a quick, steady pace. Kuro pounced on his head at one point, causing Rin to stumble, but the familiar presence soothed him the same way the pounding of his heart and the screaming in his shoulder prevented his thoughts from being heard and realized by himself.

Once he stopped, he feared that he may think thoughts he would never be able to take back.

* * *

><p>"All right, one, two and lift!"<p>

Fujimoto watched as the stretcher carrying the unconscious, exorcised teenager was hefted by the two medics and quickly moved into the ambulance. His eyebrows were drawn slightly downwards, and a worried, distracted frown wrinkled his slowly aging features.

"Fujimoto-san? Can you speak with us for a few moments?"

Mentally, he shook himself out of his thoughts and turned his attention to the official trying to talk to him, ignoring the stiffness of the manila envelope under his coat. He'd picked it up as he called the emergency number for the other boy, who had been in the side street a while back—he'd nearly missed the name 'Rin Okumura' on it, but thankfully hadn't. If nothing else, he wanted to leave no incriminating evidence behind. "Of course," he lied, "I've got a bit of time."

While he trusted Rin as much as a parent can trust a delinquent child, he was afraid of the possibilities that might come from this situation. Visions of an accusing, screaming boy refusing to believe him and bursting into flames haunted him…

Fujimoto had never forgotten the dangerous situation that had occurred with the birds on their first mission.

The balding policeman nodded even as the ambulance drove off, sirens wailing and lights flashing rhythmically. "Thank you very much. Do you mind if we cut to the chase? I just got off running down a thief in the area."

Fujimoto shook his head. "Not at all, Officer-san." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the vehicle leave the scene of the crime. Two or three other officials scouring the area around them for some sort of incriminating evidence—he absentmindedly noticed that the youngest was suspiciously poking around the toppled pile of crates, and hoped to whatever supreme power there was that they didn't find anything of Rin's.

"Fujimoto-san…you called us a few moments prior to the case concerning this young man about another boy. I'm sorry for the question, but this is procedure—did you have any part in the assault on these boys?" The policeman had a hard, stern stare, and if nothing else, Fujimoto respected him for that. Too many people were concerned with beating around the bush and being politically correct or polite these days.

However, even if Fujimoto was a 'man of god', he was not incapable of lying or bending the truth. "No sir," he said. "I did not harm them, nor did I plan to harm them."

If one thought about it a certain way, then all he wanted to do was drive the demon out of the second boy.

_Blue eyes wide in shock, staring at him as though the world had suddenly turned upside down..._

The officer nodded. "I want to believe you, Fujimoto-san, but the fact is that you were the one to call in both cases at the same time—as if you _knew_ what was going to happen. Is this simple coincidence, or did you know what was going on?"

It was at times like these when Fujimoto was glad that the Holy Order knew people in high places—this investigation wasn't likely to develop into something that would bite him when he expected it least. "The child—the one with the broken leg—told me that one young man had attacked him and the other, who was injured, went to chase the attacker down. I heard noises, followed them, and…well, I saw the white haired boy on the ground."

The Officer shot him a long, long look, but eventually nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad. "That matches up to what we could get out of the kid when we got there…he also mentioned that his friend attacked him, but was babbling on about all sorts of things like 'horns' and 'tail' and 'blue fire'—"

Fujimoto's heart skipped a beat.

"—but he may have been on drugs or had been illegally drinking, so that's really no lead at all. Could I get your address and contact numbers, Fujimoto-san?"

"Of course, Officer-san," Fujimoto pasted a small smile on his face before rattling off the information. As one of the officials moved out of the fighting area, Fujimoto tried to ignore the furious beating of his heart. _Shit_. As much as he wanted to, _needed to_ tell Rin the truth and all of the truth as he knew it, it would be for absolutely nothing if the one child woke up and started rattling off about what had happened—as soon as that child woke up, they needed to _talk_, and they needed to talk _before_ anybody else did.

It felt like everything was going out of control, and he thought he knew how Rin felt just a few moments ago.

"Sir, we found something!"

The cry pulled Fujimoto out of his thoughts, and he watched in disbelief as the man carried in the torn and dirtied formal jacket that Rin had worn to his interview. The Paladin felt like sobbing, but instead buried his raging, writhing emotions, and spoke up.

"Ah—I'd actually been taking that to a friend of mine to see if he could patch it up. My son was wearing it to an interview, and moments after putting it on he tripped and somehow managed to both rip it up and dirty it more than I thought he could. It's actually one of my coworker's jackets, so I didn't want to leave it to the last minute. I didn't realize I'd dropped it, sorry."

His acting skills were put to the test as he was cross-examined and scrutinized by four policemen. He shifted uncomfortably and put a confused expression on his face, blinking twice behind his sepia-toned glasses. "What?"

The eldest officer shook his head, but took the jacket into his hands. "We'll take that into account when we examine everything, but we need to take it in as evidence, as it was at the scene of the crime."

Fujimoto nodded his head. "Thank you. I—I just don't want anybody wrongly accused of the crime just because I dropped something carelessly."

The officer nodded and finished writing up his notes before slapping the notebook shut. "Well, if that's all…you may leave. We might call you in for questioning again, just to warn you, Fujimoto-san."

Fujimoto nodded respectfully. "I understand. I'll take my leave now." He strode past the officers, and at the entrance paused and looked over his shoulder. "Good luck!"

"Thank you!" the youngest cried back, before looking at his superior officers nervously, as though he wasn't supposed to say such things. The aforementioned three nodded at Fujimoto solemnly, and returned to examining the notes they had of the case.

The Paladin continued forward, a ball of nervous, scared energy. At this point, all he wanted to do was go home and curl up under his ridiculously soft feather blanket (his Christmas present last year from the clergy) and go to sleep, but there were things to be done and problems that needed sorting out.

_Rin's face, so so horrified, saying "Satan's…son?" and the betrayal that echoed in his eyes_.

Fujimoto picked up the pace, his features stern as he turned onto the busy main street and headed in the direction of the hospital. There wasn't enough time, and with every passing second, he could feel his child slipping from his fingers.

Bit. By. Bit.

* * *

><p>Everything was a blur when he woke up, but he was cognizant enough to recognize the numbing, airy feeling in his leg and chest.<p>

He was in the hospital for the second time, and he could have sworn that he remembered promising his mother that he'd never go into such a place ever again. He also remembered what she said she would do if he was entered again…

His dark skin lightened a few shades, and he felt dizzy for a few moments. Oh, if there was any sort of God out there, he would shave his head and swear himself into a Monastery if he received protection from his mother's wrath.

"Are you awake?" a slightly rough, low voice came from his left, and he turned his head to face the visitor.

A priest sat at his bedside, clad in black with a funny cross-heart pin on his lapel. His eyes were shadowed by tinted glasses, on which from each arm hung a string of beads and wooden crosses. His eyes were narrowed, and there was a slight tightness in his forehead and in his mouth.

In that moment, all the teenager could think was _I wasn't serious!_

"Y…Yeah. Whaddya want?"

"I called the ambulance for you and the other boy your age, and wanted to check that you were okay," the man looked at a piece of paper in his hands, "...Hisoragi-san. What happened?"

Hisoragi Takumi blinked slowly, and tried to remember the events of…before.

_Betrayal, shock and such blinding, horrid pain before a burst of blue heat and the sounds of pursuit and somebody shaking him and then whirling screaming blinding lights that asked him questions about what happened and the strange feeling of babbling about nonsense before being lifted up and away and finally, _finally_ falling unconscious_

The teenager winced, and looked up at the ceiling, cursing in his head as he realized how he'd sounded when he'd rambled off about how Shiratori—smart, brutal but loyal Shiratori—had turned into some sort of monstrous nightmare that hurt him and broke him, and how that Okumura kid had somehow burst into flames and run away.

"I—I think I had too much to drink, Priest-san, so I'm not sure what's real and not, so…can I let my head clear before I say anything stupid? They probably think I'm doing drugs as it is, and I'd rather not let my mom have more reason to beat the living tar out of me…"

His Momma always told him that she didn't care who he hung out with as long as he didn't end up in the hospital because of it, 'cause she had to pay the medical bills and they were, in her words, 'shitty to deal with'. The last time he'd been hospitalized for pulling stupid stunts with his skater friends in the park (fractured skull, broken wrist and two broken fingers on his left hand), he'd been pulling weeds for two months, scrubbing the toilets with a toothbrush for three, and had a four-o'clock curfew for the next six months—and his Momma didn't care that he could only do the work with one hand. That had been _hell_.

A big piece of dust floated by his face, and he blew at it in annoyance. Once his eyes fixed on it, though, he felt completely frozen.

It was black. It was really big for a piece of dust. And, most disturbing of all, it had _eyes_ and a freaking _mouth._ Dust motes should _not have those things_.

He opened his mouth to scream, but was interrupted as a strong, callused hand covered his mouth and the other plucked the creature thing out of thin air.

"They were swarming you before I arrived," the priest said casually, as if this was something as commonplace as finding a piece of lint on one's shoulder, "so I'm not surprised that this one was drawn to you."

The creature was immediately crushed in his hand, and Takumi felt something cold go down his back.

"Wha—you—what _are_ those things?"

"Coal tars," the man replied, sitting down and brushing his hands across his pants, "simple demons that possess bits of earth and dust. Rather common, actually."

Takumi's head started spinning, and it wasn't because of medicine or blood loss. "D-Demons?"

The priest nodded, a wry smile loosening his lips for a short moment before his face grew stern again. "Would you like to tell me what happened now?"

Hisoragi Takumi, whose mother called him 'Tate' after his grandfather in the United States, stared at this strange man of God who talked about demons and had hands that were used for more than opening the bible.

Those calluses were like the ones on his father's hands. His father was, ironically enough, an ex-policeman—he'd been caught in the middle of gang gunfire, and had gotten his legs torn up badly enough that he was forcibly retired. The fact that this man had his father's hands meant that this 'priest' was not _innocent_.

Honestly, it kind of scared him.

"Well," Hisoragi Takumi said, looking nervously at the hand that had destroyed the 'Coal Tar', "it's like, Shiratori-kun—my…my friend, y'know—he was acting a bit strange earlier, calling that Okumura kid out and telling him he wouldn't let the weasely four-eyes get into True Cross Academy if Okumura didn't promise to keep his mouth shut. Of course, this wasn't too weird, 'cause Shiratori's a hardass, not some weak-hearted wimp like a lot of other people. So, when Okumura hit Rei-Shiratori, of course I'm going to make sure that my friend can give tit for tat. But then…that Okumura guy, he suddenly got a sword out and hit my ribs, probably broke 'em, with it so that he could get up, and Isao and Sarutobi ran away, the bastards. And then…then Shiratori got real weird. He…if my ribs weren't broken before, they were then, and, and he kicked me and then…"

Takumi stopped, the words catching and sticking in his throat.

"I'll wait until you're ready," the man said quietly, "so take the time you need."

The teenager took a deep, shaking breath, and glanced at that hand again, which lay limply on the man's lap.

"I—I'm okay. It's just he…he _stepped_ on my _leg_," he choked out, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice, "and he broke it and he was so brutal, and when I looked at him again, he…he was unrecognizable. He had horns growing out of his head and he had a tail and his eyes were funny and…and just _inhuman_."

No matter how brutal he'd gotten, no matter how dirty or cruel, Shiratori had always had human eyes. He'd always cared about the guys that followed him, always made sure that when others messed with them they were dealt with in kind, but his eyes had never been so cold, or sadistic, or completely uncaring and oblivious to the fact that he was causing one of his—dare he say it—_friends_ pain.

The priest nodded. "Anything else?"

"He…" Takumi struggled to remember the events past the blinding pain, the blur that his memory became afterwards. "He said something about an A-Astarot or so, and he kicked Okumura into a wall. Shiratori kept pushing on my leg, and it _hurt so bad_. But then…that Okumura kid, he got real weird and there was suddenly fire all over him. The…the person who was pushing on my leg chased after him, and…yeah."

"…was there anything specific about the flames that you mentioned?" For a moment, the man's voice sounded funny, but Takumi dismissed it.

"Yeah. They were real blue, y'know. But," Takumi said hastily, "this is probably just because of the drink I had. Alcohol does some weird stuff to your head."

The priest was quiet for a moment, and the teenager couldn't see his eyes properly because of those tinted glasses. His stomach dropped about three stories.

"You gonna send me to an asylum now?" he asked, keeping the disappointment out of his voice as much as he could.

"…There are two worlds. One is Assiah, the world of humans—the world we live in now. The other is like a distorted mirror of our world, called Gehenna. This is where demons come from."

Takumi blinked. "Wha?"

"Demons can usually only pass from world to world through possessing something or somebody. For example, Coal Tars possess dust motes, Goblins and Hobgoblins possess small rodents like rabbits or rats, and Ghouls possess the bodies of the dead. Some demons, especially the more powerful ones, can possess humans."

"Dude," Takumi said blankly, "you are not telling me that you think this is the truth. Demons don't fucking—"

"Exist, right?" The priest looked up at him, the lenses of the glasses reflecting the light just so that only half of each eye was visible. This man, Takumi saw, was completely, totally serious about this.

That scared him even more than his lack of innocence.

"But they do," the man said quietly, "they do. Your friend, Shiratori—I followed him and…Okumura-san. Shiratori was possessed by a very strong demon called Astaroth—he's one of the Great Demon Kings. I exorcised him, so Shiratori right now is demon free, but unless people change, it's always possible that they can be possessed again."

Takumi was quiet a bit, and then laughed, disbelief tainting his voice as he spoke. "Demons? Exorcism? What manga do _you _come out of? And if you're telling the truth, how the hell do I know that? I've never seen this stuff before! Nobody ELSE has seen this stuff before! This…this'd be top-rate news. Why don't I already know about this?"

"The time Shiratori broke your leg…that was, quite technically, something called Masshou. It's a sort of spiritual wound, and when a demon harms a human, the human is able to see demonic figures."

"So I was drugged," Takumi said flatly. "I don't believe you."

Momma believed in not believing until she had no other choice. It's the reason she was an Atheist.

The priest sighed and bowed his head into his hands, looking tired for the first time since Takumi had seen him.

The room was silent for a few more moments, until the man finally lifted his head and dug into his black robe. He pulled out a card, and then handed it to Hisoragi Takumi. The teenager took it, and looked the curly purple, shiny print, which was in English. Frustrated, he noticed the even shinier, darker katakana underneath.

"Yohannes Faust?"

"Johannes Faust. His other name is Mephisto Pheles, and he's in charge of the True Cross Academy. If…If you need anything, if you need or want to get into True Cross, call him and tell him that Fujimoto Shirou recommended you. If you want to learn how to keep your friend from hurting you or hurting anybody else again, then…ask to get into the Exorcism Cram School. He'll make sure you get there."

Takumi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Sure. Of course."

The Priest stood, and looked at him. "If you could avoid saying anything about what we talked about, I think it'd be for the best."

"_No shit, Sherlock_," Takumi muttered in English, before speaking up and switching to Japanese. "I don't feel like taking any drug tests any time soon," he said scathingly. "Besides, as much as it annoys me, you did call the ambulance for me. I can repay a debt."

Momma told him that he should never be in debt. He wasn't allowed to gamble or borrow money or anything. He followed this rule mostly because he hated owing somebody else something, not just because Momma said it.

And he _wasn't_ a Momma's boy, no matter what others said.

The man—Fujimoto something—nodded his head. "Thank you."

Takumi made a show of turning his face away from the priest, and didn't answer the old man. The priest paused, but eventually left in a swish of fabric and heavy footfalls against the ground. In the teenager's honest opinion, priests shouldn't be allowed to wear heavy-duty boots, pistol-callused hands or no—they weren't combat material, they were more 'pray for the souls of others' material.

Hisoragi Takumi stared at the green curtain next to him and tried to ignore the niggling thought in his mind that maybe, _maybe _this strange priest was…was actually telling the truth.

That maybe demons did exist. That maybe Shiratori was possessed by a demon. That maybe…

That maybe he could make sure that Shiratori never got such cold, inhuman eyes ever again.

Thundering footsteps came back down the hall, and Takumi scowled. If it was that priest guy again, he swore to himself, he would yell at him so loud the nurses would come. He turned his face around to the open door and began to speak when the words died and shriveled in his mouth at the sight before him.

"Takumi Nathaniel Hisoragi!" The deep, thundering voice boomed out from the nightmare at his doorway. "_I thought I told you to never get your little white ass in this building again!_"

_Oh God,_ he thought in English, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping down further in horror. _Oh God, if you send that priest back I swear I won't complain, I swear I'll go with him and believe him and join his little exorcism cult_.

This time, God didn't answer.

* * *

><p>It was so goddamn loud.<p>

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

It was so fucking goddamn loud, he thought as he slouched in the leather chair before Fujimoto's desk.

_Tick. Tock._

So

_Tick. Tock._

Fucking

_Tick. Tock_.

LOUD.

A strangled sob pulled itself out of his throat, and he buried his fingers in his hair, eyes wide open in the dark of the room. The grandfather clock in the corner of the study continued to tick off the seconds, and his nails dug into his scalp in protest. His aching heart beat sharply in his chest, and every time it felt like he was being stabbed.

He couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop dwelling over the revelation.

_"Rin…you're Satan's son."_

The statement had become an insidious whisper he couldn't get out of his head, something that refused to leave him and haunted him constantly, totally. An uncharacteristically self-depreciating laugh found its way into the air even as his hands clenched his hair tighter. The son of a demon he could understand, but the son of the biggest baddie of them all? No wonder, he thought to himself, no wonder he was so fucked up. Fighting all the time, hurting others all the time, raging at others all the time…no _wonder_.

"_Rin…you're Satan's son."_

And Fujimoto had been the one who had tried to tame the monster, tame the little, dangerous demon-child that couldn't control its own temper. Now that he thought about it, Rin realized, his fath—_Fujimoto Shirou_ had looked at him strangely the first time he'd showed off his flames. Of course he had! They were the sign of the devil, of a monster waiting to be unleashed upon the world!

_"Rin…you're Satan's son."_

Yukio…Yukio had been born weak and sickly (lucky him, Rin thought a little sourly, but he couldn't bring himself to hate his brother for it), born without the curse and mantle Rin had to bear. Suddenly, Rin furiously wished that he'd never known about his demonic parentage.

_…Rin? Rin, you're…do you want some catnip wine? Catnip wine makes everything better, you know._

_"Rin…you're Satan's son._"

His hands came to clench themselves over his ears. "No no no no no," he whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "Go away, Kuro. Go away."

Everything was making _sense_. Why else would he be called 'My Lord'? Why else would other demons cringe and quail and become so quiet at the sight of his flames? Why else could he hear the demons, hear their words and understand their hearts and be able to communicate with them?

A soft weight settled in his lap, and he froze.

_"Rin…you're Satan's son."_

_Rin?_ A paw batted at his nose. _Rin, you_—

"_GO AWAY, KURO!_" Rin screamed suddenly as his eyes snapped open, everything that had been bottled up exploding out of him and wreathing him in violently waving blue flames. Startled, Kuro moved backwards and fell to the ground. "_GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE!_"

Kuro peered up at him in shock, and when Rin couldn't stare into those huge green eyes anymore, he squeezed his own shut and brought his feet up onto the chair, not caring that he was getting the black leather upholstery dirty with his torn, worn dress shoes. Folding his arms, he set his head onto them and grit his teeth so hard that his jaw began to hurt. Inside of him was an irritated swirl of confused emotions, which writhed this way and that way and refused to settle down.

The clock ticked in the corner of the room, and the door to the study was opened.

"…Rin? What—What's wrong?" Yukio exclaimed in horrified surprise, probably due to the fact that not only was Rin swathed in flames, but he was also risking Fujimoto's wrath by putting his feet on the expensive leather chair that had been given to the Paladin by a good friend about five years ago. He'd done it once before, and the consequences had not been pretty.

_"Rin…you're Satan's son."_

"Go away, Yukio," Rin growled out, his voice a little heavy and hoarse as he tried to ignore the damp on his sleeves. He felt the flames flicker over his hair and arms and back, the familiar warmth tinged with something now cold and inhuman and _uncomfortable_. Unconsciously, the teenager shivered.

Something was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, and Rin heard Yukio start coming towards him. "_GO AWAY!_"

The footsteps halted, but Yukio did not retreat. "Something happened, Rin."

This was not a question—this was a statement, and it was one that Rin didn't much feel like answering.

"I don't want to say anything," he tried to snarl out, but it came out a little broken.

He was only quiet for a short time, but Yukio let it be in favor of another question. "Your interview was at quarter past six. You're not wearing the suit jacket, your pants are torn and there are dirt marks on your shirt. How long have you been here?"

As if in answer, the clock chimed eight thirty. When he'd first thrown himself into Fujimoto's study, it had been seven forty or so. That had been after he had tried to distract himself for an hour in his practice room.

Rin had long since started to wonder if Fujimoto was even going to come back—any business he should have had with the police should have been ended in thirty minutes at maximum. That it was taking him so much longer made him feel even more betrayed, made him think even more than he should have, than he had _wanted_ to.

He couldn't take these thoughts back.

"Rin, how long have you been there?"

The elder twin sat in silence, but he felt his flames rise up and dance in agitation, felt his shoulders shake just a little bit more than they should have.

"…Rin, are you…" Yukio trailed off, and after a short pause turned and exited the room.

In some deep part of him, he felt his heart drop in disappointment, and his teeth ground harder against each other.

Yukio knew. He already knew that he was a demon child, that he was a monster, that he was the son of the epitome of evil. And now that Rin knew, there was no need to keep pretending, no need to humor his elder twin not-really-brother.

Yet another noise escaped his clenched teeth.

_"Rin…you're Sata—"_

"Shut up," he choked out, hating himself for the new gush of tears that came flowing out of his eyes. "Shut up shut up shut _up_."

There were suddenly pounding footsteps coming down the hall, and Rin looked up in confusion as Yukio entered the room with something in his hand.

"You're being a child," Yukio snapped at him, but part of Rin noticed the worry in his brother's eyes. "So you know what? I'm treating you like one."

The light was suddenly turned on, and Rin squinted as the eerie blue glow of his flames was dimmed by the bright, warm yellow glow above him.

Yukio stalked over to the chair next to Rin's and swiveled it around to face Rin. As he lifted the book and opened it, the elder brother could only blink in bemusement.

What the hell was he doing?

"Chapter 324 and 325: The Deceptive Double and The Elaborate Trap! The climax of the arc celebrated with a full color spread and a special double-entry! The hero Jack Orion and best friend Peter Polaris battle against the villainess Rose Lullaby, and there is a strange discovery?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Rin croaked out, setting one foot on the floor and wiping his eyes.

"You're upset," Yukio replied, his glasses flashing as he turned the page, "so I'm making sure you calm down."

Rin laughed a little, and it was a laugh that sounded as though it was torn between despair and joy.

Yukio cleared his throat. "Whoosh! Avoid! Dodge! Jack Orion evades all of Rose Lullaby's magical attacks! He leaps back to gain distance from the villainess, tears streaming down his face. 'You nearly killed him!' he screams at her. She starts to sneer, but is suddenly surprised, and her eyes widen. _Dodododododododo_, a shadow rises up behind Jack Orion, an evil smile on its face…"

Rin sat quietly, amused and confused and angry as Yukio read the manga out loud, describing how Peter Polaris had died years ago and had his place taken by an evil doppelgänger who had set once-friends Rose and Jack against each other slowly but surely, manipulating events both behind and on the scene as to ensure that the world would continue to crumble into the nothingness it itself had come from. The minutes ticked by, but Rin didn't hear the seconds counting themselves away, only heard the comical and sometimes bland explanations Yukio gave to the story.

Five minutes later, Yukio finished reading and looked at Rin, whose flames had died down and receded back into him. "So. Do you want to tell me what's going on, or do I need to read you another chapter?"

"…did you always know?" Rin asked in the softest voice he could use, but Yukio still managed to hear him.

"What?" He asked simply, closing the book slowly. One slender finger kept his place marked.

"That…that I'm _his_ son."

The implications could not be ignored, and Yukio's glasses flashed in a way Rin couldn't see his eyes anymore. "I know that Satan somehow impregnated our mother, through the possession of another man or through other, more demonic ways, yes."

Rin felt the anger start to return. "Why didn't you ever _tell_ me then?" he asked hotly, his eyes narrowing at his little brother.

Yukio was quiet for a moment. "Because Father never told you," he said, "and you…I didn't want to see you bothered by anything like that, especially when we were children."

"Why did the old fa—_Fujimoto_ tell you, and not me?" Rin let the other foot touch the ground and stared at his hands. "Why?"

"First off," Yukio said, finally taking his finger out of the book and setting it on the arm of the easy-chair, "I never heard it from our father. I found out about it by learning about the Blue Night and putting two and two together to get four. Secondly, I think…I think that Father didn't want you to have to deal with more than you already were dealing with."

Rin stared at the floor, and the twins sat in silence.

"…He promised to tell me everything," Rin said quietly.

"He'll be here," Yukio promised.

"And what if he leaves? What if he leaves because I'm demon spawn and I know now and he doesn't need to pretend anymore? Were…were you…?"  
>Yukio sighed, and Rin looked up at his brother to see him get up out of the chair and come over to him. Sitting on the arm of the chair (something else they weren't allowed to do), Yukio slapped his hands over Rin's cheeks and forcibly made his elder brother face him.<p>

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" he saw his squashed, fish-faced expression reflected in Yukio's glasses.

The younger brother pinched Rin's cheeks and pulled them out. "Na, Rin, are you an idiot? 'Cause only idiots look like _this_."

Rin's cheeks were stretched even farther, and he tried to pull away from Yukio's fingers. "Get off, moley four-eyes!"

Fortunately for the elder brother, Yukio did not have the experience or aptitude for such horrible face-stretching methods, like, say, Shura unfortunately did. That woman had been absolutely _ruthless_, Rin recalled as he pulled his brother's stubborn fingers from his face in a rough manner.

"So," Yukio said decisively, ignoring his brother's glower as Rin rubbed his sore cheeks, "if you're an idiot, then I'll just keep doing this. It's a surprisingly good fit to your face…"

"I'm not an idiot, I'm not!" Rin grumbled. "So? What's your point?"

"Only an idiot," drawled Yukio, "would think that we were just pretending all this time. Idiot."

"And how do I know that?" Rin asked, the bitterness returning to his voice. He turned his gaze away to stare at the bookshelf on the other side of the room. "You guys didn't say anything, you…you _kept_ this from me my _entire life_—why should I believe that you guys weren't keeping anything else from me, weren't acting to make sure I didn't want to destroy the world or something stupid like that?"

Yukio gripped the top of Rin's head and forcibly made his elder brother face him, his expression incredibly serious. "Rin," he said quietly, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and keep looking."

Against his will, he looked into Yukio's eyes, and saw the sincerity and honesty there as his younger brother began to speak.

"Rin," he said softly, "if I actually cared that you were Satan's offspring, I honestly don't think I would be touching you right now. I wouldn't have read _ORION_ out loud to you. I wouldn't have pulled at your cheeks. I would have either ignored you or I would have gotten my gun and killed you right there and then."

Rin stared at him, confusion and horror and a sneaking, suspiciously growing joy in his chest. "What…what do you mean?"

Yukio sighed and nudged his glasses up, releasing Rin's head. "I've talked to several exorcists. About ninety percent of them absolutely hate Satan, and the fact that you're technically his child makes you a scapegoat for them—if your truth came to light, there would be those who would snub you, those who would orally abuse you, those who would physically abuse you, and those who would try to kill you."

"And…" Rin felt a chill go down his back at Yukio's words. "And…you. Why not you?"

The deadpan look Yukio gave him sent him reeling back into childhood memories of his little brother's reaction whenever Rin said something particularly stupid and senseless. "Because you're my brother, you idiot. I…I…" Yukio coughed out something that sounded suspiciously like 'love you', but Rin let it go.

Yukio continued speaking. "The thing is, you're family. You're a precious person, you are the person I would give up my life and soul for. Didn't I promise you something, Rin?"

Rin looked blankly at Yukio, relaxing just a bit more with every passing moment. "What promise?"

"The one I made when Shura stupidly gave us the wrong key on Halloween. Remember? The night we nearly _died_?"

It hit Rin like a bullet train would hit a car left parked on the tracks.

"_I'm not leaving you and you're not leaving me. We're brothers, right? We support each other. We support each other even if the whole world is against us."_

Rin was silent, and a small smile flashed across Yukio's face. "You know, Rin, I meant what I said at the time."

"Did you know even then," Rin asked quietly, the hope blossoming in his chest and causing his voice to sound a little thicker than usual, "that I was his kid?"

"Yeah. I did. And to be honest, if I hated you, couldn't I have just left you to the wolves? Would I have said anything like that? I could have given you up, revealed who you were and possibly increased my chances of returning safe and sound, or simply without as many injuries."

Slow realization dawned on Rin. "…but you didn't, did you?"

"No. I didn't." Yukio's face turned serious again. "If you want me to, if you need me to, I can give you a binding oath that I will _never_ betray you, that I will go against the Vatican itself if it were to turn against you. You know, he's never said anything to me in particular, but…our father would do the same. If he hadn't cared about you, if he had hated you from the start, then he…he wouldn't have cried that Halloween night."

A shock ran through Rin as he remembered something very, very important from that incident.

_"You're a _human _child. Rin…even if you _were_ a demon, I'd treat you the same. Do you want to know why? Because…Rin, you've got a good heart—that should be enough proof of your humanity. Even if the whole world turns against you..."_

To Rin's utter dismay, tears welled up in his eyes and he started sniffling. "You…you really mean it? You don't need to, but…do you _really mean it_?"

In more ways than one, he was addressing more than just his present company.

Yukio's answer was to pull Rin into his arms and press his brother's face into his own shoulder. Not a moment later did Kuro squirm his way in between the two brothers, nudging his head into Rin's stomach.

Two surprised seconds passed, and suddenly Rin was bawling for the first time since Shura left into his brother's stiff Exorcism's uniform. He felt the worst of the anger and pain melt away, bit by bit, as he remembered the entire truth of the matter.

"…_I'll be there by your side."_

* * *

><p>By the time Fujimoto got home, it was late. It was later than he wanted, and he dreaded finding a note on the table and an empty closet once he returned, dreaded finding a boy screaming words of hatred and betrayal at him <em>even more<em>.

If the latter happened, he didn't think he could keep his mental walls against Satan up all the way.

He twisted the knob and pushed open the door, calling out a tired, "I'm home," into the darkness of the entryway.

A light was flicked on, and Yukio's form leaning against the wall was revealed. One look at his face showed his displeasure.

"I want to let you know," Yukio said slowly, "that Rin's waiting for you in your study."

Fujimoto nodded, the skin under his eyes feeling tight. "Thank you—I'll be in there shortly."

Yukio's eyebrows raised. "Shortly? Father, he's been waiting for you in there for probably three hours already. I think he's waited long enough."

Fujimoto winced and shut the door behind him. He nodded tiredly, but didn't dare ask what Rin's condition was—his youngest son's slightly hard stare was enough to make him worry a bit more than before.

He pulled the manila envelope out of his coat before sliding it onto the dresser next to the door. As he did so, he glanced at the clock next to the coat hanger, and felt himself get even more tired.

"I didn't realize that it was quarter to ten…" he said quietly, unable to even attempt to keep the exhaustion out of his voice. He bent down and quickly unlaced his shoes before slipping them off and leaving them by the door.

"That it is. Now, hurry up and get into your study—Rin's _waiting_." Yukio said this as though it was of huge importance. While Fujimoto did understand the significance that Rin wasn't gone, he felt like he wasn't grasping the full enormity of the situation.

The Paladin nodded and strode past his son, who ignored him and went to retrieve the packet of information about Rin—it was a good thing that Fujimoto had picked that up, he thought, and begged God with all he had that the police would be deterred from the case as soon as possible—he didn't need Rin having some sort of criminal record.

He most certainly couldn't deal with that sort of drama or problem at the moment.

As he turned right and then left to arrive at the study door, he felt his distress heighten and his mental walls creaking under internal and external pressure, which was heavier than it usually was. This made warning bells ring in his head, and his stress levels skyrocketed.

Fujimoto took a deep breath, and exhaled it, placing his hand on the doorknob to his study. He could do this. He could make sure that Rin was told the truth, that it was explained to him and he could keep Satan at bay all in one.

_He could do it_.

The strongest Exorcist twisted the doorknob and slowly but surely the door creaked open, letting the warm light of his study spill out into the dark hallway.

The first thing he noticed was that his son was committing _major taboo_.

Rin had a manga in his lap, munching on cold leftovers from the night before, crinkling the important paperwork underneath him as he sat on it. His dirty shoes kicked at the air, and the teenager looked up from the magazine to look at his father standing in the open doorway.

"Oh. Hi. You're finally back."

Fujimoto's eye twitched violently for about two seconds. "What are you doing on my desk?"

Rin chewed thoughtfully on the strip of chicken he held in his hand. "Um…I dunno. Reading. You know, the last Shounen Jump issue I didn't have a chance to read yesterday." There was a trace of anger in his stance, but there wasn't as much as Fujimoto had predicted, which puzzled him…until he focused on his son's face.

By the twitch at the corner of his mouth and the gleam in his eyes, Rin seemed to have moved past whatever angry-at-the-world stage he had gone through and into this-is-my-revenge stage. Fujimoto felt just a tiny bit relieved, but he was mostly just a little irritated, because he couldn't really yell at Rin for something like this when he'd been the root cause of it all.

But as he looked closer, even in his tired state, he noticed how there were red rims around Rin's eyes, how he looked so tired and worn. Fujimoto felt horrible in that moment, and couldn't help but ask, "Do you hate me?"

"Huh?"

Fujimoto let out a weary sigh, and sat himself down in the chair that hadn't been turned to face the other one. "I mean…do you hate me? For…"

"For keeping stuff from me?" Rin set the manga aside and licked his fingers clean before pushing the plate of food behind him. "For not telling me I'm the son of the most evil demon on the face of the earth? For leaving me sit here for hours with only my thoughts to keep me company? I'm angry at you. I'm really, really angry at you."

His heart dropped.

"But I don't hate you," Rin continued, admirably levelheaded. "I mean, for a while there, I hated you so much. It _hurt_, you know," he said, his level tone shaking for a moment, "it really really hurt. But you're lucky Yukio was here, 'cause otherwise I'd probably be screaming at you right now."

Fujimoto blinked, and suddenly understood what Yukio was trying to tell him earlier. _Rin's waiting for you, not coming up to you and yelling, not running away, and not ignoring you. He's giving you a second chance._

"I'm—"

"Sorry? It's not okay, but…" Rin looked down and fiddled with the bottom of his dress shirt. "…you know, Yukio made me realize that though I'm technically that bastard's son, I'm not his kid. I…" he blushed and mumbled something under his breath.

"What?" Fujimoto asked, intrigued and somewhat relieved by this turn of events. "What do you mean?"

Rin looked up at the ceiling and away, his mouth in somewhat of a pout. "Well, y'know," he poked his index fingers together in a nervous manner that had somehow stuck with him from his childhood, "I—Satan's not the guy who raised me, y'know. So, he's just, not my…not my parent. He's—blood or power isn't all that makes family. In fact, it's not really that…that important or…yeah."

Seeing Rin act like this lifted something off of Fujimoto's shoulders. "Thank you, Rin," he said, and he meant it with all his heart and soul.

"But you gotta work hard to regain that trust you lost!" Rin exclaimed, closing his eyes and crossing his arms, face still aimed more towards the light ceiling than the floor. "It's not gonna be easy, either! Just because you're the guy who brought me up doesn't mean that I'm going to hand it to you on a silver platter or anything like that!"

"I don't expect it," Fujimoto said in a warmth-tinged voice, his heart lighter than it had been in ages. The seriousness of the matter settled on him again, but it didn't weigh as much as it did before.

First things first—explain all that he could.

As Rin continued to act self-important, perched on Fujimoto's desk like he owned it, the Paladin pulled his thoughts together, and tried to figure out where to begin. While he thought, the cord to Rin's pendant, softened with age and wear, peeked through the loosened collar of the dress shirt.

The connection flashed through his mind in but an instant, and Fujimoto stood. Rin's attention was caught, and he opened one eye to survey the exorcist in front of him. "And?"

"I need to show you something," Fujimoto said, walking briskly over to the cabinet Kurikara had been placed in and unlocking the door with the Kamikakushi key. The cabinet had been Shura's idea—he'd originally placed it in a drawer in the basement, but she had been concerned that the sword wasn't under Fujimoto's watch enough. And since the place where Fujimoto was most often was his study…that's where it was moved, about three years ago.

Behind him and to his left, Rin's arms dropped out of their crossed position to fall to his legs, and the boy leaned over curiously. "What do you need to show me?"

Carefully, gently, Fujimoto removed the wrapped Kurikara from its position in the cabinet and turned around. He extended it to Rin, who just as cautiously took it, albeit in a slightly confused manner.

"Wha…I already have a sword that suits me fine. You should know, seeing as you're the one who gave it to me…" Rin said quietly.

Fujimoto shook his head. "You can take off the silk covering if you want—but I warn you that this sword is _never_ to be drawn."

With a raised eyebrow, Rin slid the red material off and hefted the sheathed katana, inspecting the scrolls and decoration on the crossguard and sheath. His hand moved to reflexively grip the hilt, but he visibly halted himself from drawing the blade.

"It's killing me not to look at the edge," Rin said in a half-whine. "Why can't I draw it, anyways?"

Fujimoto took a solemn step back and made eye contact with his son purposefully. "This sword is what is sealing the majority of your demonic power and appearance. Unless you want to have to deal with such things, then I suggest you don't take it out."

Rin's hand snapped back from the hilt quickly, and he looked at Fujimoto carefully. "What do you mean, demonic appearance?"

"It means," the Paladin struggled to keep a straight face, "you were born with a tail and things like that…Astaroth is actually a fairly good example for what you would normally look like."

A look of disgust crossed the eldest twin's features. "What, I'd have horns growing out of my head and those creepy fingernails?"

Fujimoto snickered, but shook his head. "Nothing quite so bad. Your ears were a little pointed and you actually had a couple fangs already peeking out of your gums, but there weren't any horns—just two spots of fire in particular, where horns usually are. To be honest, the tail was rather cute."

Rin did a double take at his father. "Wha—_tail_?"

"I've said that twice before."

"Like a _monkey_?"

Fujimoto grinned as the clock chimed ten times in the background. "Exactly."

The teenager gingerly set the sword on top of two precariously stacked piles of paperwork. The Paladin flinched as they swayed, but thankfully nothing fell over.

"I don't think I'm taking this thing out anywhere, anytime," Rin said with a nervous laugh in his voice. "So, can you put it back into its own little cupboard, or what's happening to it now?"

"You," Fujimoto stopped laughing, "are now entrusted with this Demon-Slaying sword. You should keep it on you at all times, protect it from being stolen, and ensure that it is never, _ever _drawn. The consequences could be dire."

Rin looked down at the sword next to him, and picked it up again solemnly before looking Fujimoto in the eye. "Is the fact I'm Satan's son the reason why I can't be an Exorcist?"

"I'm sorry," Fujimoto said as he sat back down in the chair still facing the desk, "but yes. You could theoretically join the Exorcist Cram School, but unless I'm convinced otherwise, it's too dangerous for you to be among them. There are quite a few good Exorcists, but…the vast majority has a huge thing against demons, Satan in particular. I'm incredibly atypical in that I usually tend to try to find the peaceful solution with a demon before resorting to physical, violent methods."

Rin looked at the sheathed blade in his hands. "I…I always found it a bit funny, Yukio being able to go out and be an exorcist and me not. It's why I thought that having demon blood fit the situation."

"Actually," Fujimoto said, "A lot of people with demonic heritage are Exorcists."

"What?" Rin started and stared at Fujimoto. "Then—then the only reason I have a problem is because Satan's the guy who had sex with my mom?"

Fujimoto sighed at Rin's word choice, but nodded. "Essentially, yes."

They sat in silence for a time, the only thing permeating the silence being the almost silent ticking of the grandfather clock in the room.

"So…because I have to work in the real world…" Rin said slowly, "how do I keep this thing on me at all times? Do I need to get another space-dimension thing?" He raised his left arm and waved it twice.

But Fujimoto was looking at the cord around Rin's neck. "Actually," he said slowly, "I could probably mess with your former secondary seal and modify it so that it would hold Kurikara—it's not a difficult task"

"My whatawhat?" Rin leaned towards Fujimoto further and blinked a couple times, the dumbfounded expression on his face loosening the muscles around his mouth and eyes.

Fujimoto restrained himself from grinning as best as he could. "Your pendant."

"Well, why didn't you just say that?" Rin asked, placing the sword in his lap before reaching his hands up behind him to unclasp the pendant from around his neck. "Honestly, sticking stupid terms onto things that can be explained with easier words…Do you need it right now?"

"The sooner I get it, the better it will be, I think," Fujimoto said, reaching his hand out to take the pendant. "I can work on it tonight—Kurikara should be safe in here for tonight, but I'm going to have to give it to you to take care of."

"Okay," Rin said, dropping the necklace he'd had since nearly ten years before into Fujimoto's palm.

Fujimoto carefully tucked it into a breast pocket, where it wouldn't be likely forgotten, before looking back at Rin. The teenager had grabbed the sword and slid off the desk, and was then picking up the cover for Kurikara. "Do…do you have any more questions?"

Rin slid the Demon-Slaying sword into its case, and then propped it up against the desk before sliding down the hard wooden front so that he could sit on the floor. "I…I'm not quite sure, but…is there any particular reason Satan's hated so much? Other than the fact he's pretty much the big bad final boss of the dark force of evil, I mean."

A shadow crossed Fujimoto's face, and he leaned over to put his elbows on his legs. "Unfortunately, yes. It also happened fairly recently and affected a lot of Exorcists. Most of these Exorcists would stop at nothing to hurt you or kill you if they knew the truth.

"Fifteen years ago, the Blue Night occurred."

"Blue Night?" Rin asked in confusion. "What?"

"It's when Satan went on a rampage, possessing this exorcist and that exorcist and killing them one by one. When Satan possesses somebody, you see…their bodies usually aren't strong enough to contain his power and soul, and they begin to shut down. Even if Satan leaves the body…they die.

"Also, when Satan possesses somebody, his flames come with him—thus, the name of the 'Blue Night'. Many people died this night, many people lost family and friends this night, and whoever was possessed…as far as we know, they all died."

Rin stared at Fujimoto in horror.

"Many people will hold a grudge against you for this reason," Fujimoto explained quietly. "However, it's nearly impossible to convince them that it's not your fault that this night happened."

The teenager looked at his hand, paler than usual, and looked back up at Fujimoto. "So…these flames. These flames, they've killed people?"

"No, Rin," Fujimoto said quietly. "No they haven't. Don't ever believe that—those flames are not Satan's. They're Okumura Rin's."

They both sat in silence a while longer, before Rin asked, "You…you're not going to make me leave, right?"

"No," Fujimoto said. "However, if the circumstances were different—were you fifteen and had no prior knowledge of the demonic world—I would have sent you over to a friend of mine so that the demons wouldn't track you here and break through the wards. At True Cross Academy, the wards are much, much stronger, and you would be safer. Unless there's a good reason, I wouldn't kick you out. And even if you did have to leave…you would always, always be welcome back to stay here."

Rin stared up at Fujimoto, and the eyes that had hours earlier stared at him with hurt and betrayal now stared at him with a mix of caution and gratitude. They were not done healing—that may not happen for a while yet—but they were on the road.

It was better than what Fujimoto had hoped for the moment he'd found out Rin had been fighting one of Demon Kings.

The clock chimed half-past, and Fujimoto stood up. "Well, I need to file some paperwork, fix your pendant and make sure things run smoothly, and I think you need to get to bed—you've got to go job hunting again tomorrow, seeing as you missed your interview today…"

Confusion flitted across Rin's face for only half a moment, before he opened his eyes wide. "Oh! The interview!"

"The interview," Fujimoto repeated. "Yes."

"…Shit." Rin swore and clenched his hair. "Ooooooh, that Shiratori…Oh! How are they? Shiratori and that Dreadlocks guy."

"You mean Hisoragi?" Fujimoto asked. "I think he'll be fine—broken ribs and leg, but…he'll heal. He promised to keep your flames and the whole incident a secret—doesn't believe that there are demons even _though_ he did receive a Masshou."

Rin let out a sigh of relief. "Good. He got stepped on really bad by that Astaroth dude…is Shiratori doing okay after the possession?"

"I didn't hear anything other than he'd regained consciousness for a short period of time and didn't remember anything about the incident…but that's usually how it is with human possessions."

Rin snorted and poked the beautiful carpeting with one dirty shoe. "He's a jerk, but he's still a person."

At this point, though, Fujimoto had noticed the dirt left in his carpet, and a dark grin settled on his face. Rin didn't notice until Fujimoto spoke up.

"Rin? Why do you still have your dirty dress shoes on?"

The teenager looked up and paled. "Well—I—I just came in here and was really frustrated and didn't think about taking anything off…"

"Congratulations," Fujimoto said cheerfully. "You get to clean the carpet tomorrow morning. And whatever I see that's wrong with my room due to your negligence…"

"But—but tomorrow's the day Yukio packs and leaves to go to True Cross Academy!" Rin protested. "I have to make sure he takes Nana-chan with him! He keeps hiding her away in the closet 'cause he says she's too childish. I still sleep with my Rocket someti—I mean," he coughed and tried to regain his dignity, "I don't ignore my present from Mom like he does."

"Tough luck," Fujimoto said. "If you get the job done properly fast enough, you can probably make sure he gets out of here with everything you want him to take. If not, then…well, too bad, so sad."

"Mmmmmmmn!" Rin stood, frustrated. "Fine! You know what, I'm going to bed, and then I'm going to wake you up reaaaaaally early in the morning so that you have to watch me do all this stuff! And I'm not making you any breakfast!"

He grabbed his issue of Shounen Jump and stalked out of the room, pausing only to turn his face back to stick out his tongue at the Paladin childishly.

"If you can wake up on time," Fujimoto called back, "and I can cook for myself too, you know!"

"My cooking is better and we both know it!" Rin shouted back as he left the room and stomped down the hall to where he himself slept, muttering to himself in frustration.

Fujimoto remained in the chair for another five minutes, staring at where Kurikara leaned against his desk innocently.

"I think," he said lowly to the blade, "that you and he are going to get into a lot more trouble than today."

Fujimoto wasn't a stupid man. He knew that ever since Astaroth found out about Rin, that ever since Rin had even obtained access to his flames, the clock was ticking down, and down, and down.

The climax was coming soon—the semi-peaceful life that they had been leaving had just ended. All Fujimoto hoped was that after finding out that his shadows were real, Rin was able to deal with them and all the problems that came with him.

At that moment, the phone on his desk rang, and Fujimoto stared at it blearily before reaching over the plate of food Rin had left on the desk (that's it, Fujimoto thought, I needed my desk cleaned and polished soon anyways) to take it off the hook.

"Fujimoto Shirou, Paladin. May I ask who it is?"

"_Guten Abend_, Shirou my friend!" A bouncy, sly voice echoed over the telephone line. "Just the person I wanted to talk to!"

"Is it about Yukio starting his Teacher's Aid job tomorrow? It should go over fine…" Fujimoto reclined back in the chair, thanking god that he'd gotten rid of those cords with phones almost a decade ago.

"_Nein, Nein_, that is absolutely no problem! In fact, I believe Yukio will do a _wonderful_ job. I only wanted to hear about your darling, elder son—the one whose powers I helped seal when he was born."

Fujimoto furrowed his brow. "Rin? Why?"

"It has come to my attention," the man on the other end announced grandly, "that Rin is in a delicate situation. May we convene in your study at about two-thirty tomorrow afternoon for tea and coffee? I _love_ having tea and coffee, you know. It's the best time for conversations!"

"It's not a problem," Fujimoto said carefully. "Is that all?"

A laugh, and then, "Not at all, but we may mull over such things tomorrow! We will see each other then, correct?"

"Of course. It's a promise."

"Well, then, until tomorrow! _Tschüss_!"

The line clicked as the call ended, and Fujimoto let the phone drop from his ear slowly, his eyes narrowed and thoughts whirling. Despite the fact that he was his best friend, Fujimoto felt something foreboding and dark settle in his stomach. Such a call, such a proposed meeting about this particular topic only pointed to one thing.

Mephisto Pheles was playing games again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** If anybody sees anything wrong, please tell me! It would really help, to be honest...

Oh. The manga storyline? Made up. Completely and totally made up by yours truly.

Aaaaaaaaaaand the plot moves on! I know many of you are incredibly happy or excited right now, but you never know when I might kill of one of these characters...okay, not in the near future, but I've been juggling ideas around and struggling with such ideas. What will happen for sure is that people will get hurt.

By the way, I've just gotten myself Goethe's _Faust_ in German-I want to read it soon, but it might not happen for a while...lots of tests coming up and lots of homework as well. I don't know why I'm even doing this right now...

Well, until next time! I should should should should SHOULD update on time next month, but you never know...I may pull something like this again. .;;;


	9. Regenschirm

**A/N:**...

And it finally happened. The unexpected month delay. And the shorter chapter. Aaaaaaaaaall in chapter nine! Hooray!

(headdesks)

I'm so so so so so sorry that this is both so short and this came out so late-I could give you a million excuses as to why. Part of it is the lack of drive to write the chapter, that is true-but I think I had to restart portions several times, and Mephisto is a big old pain in the rear to write. Oreramar tells me that I did well (she's my Beta), but I feel like he's off or like Fuji's off or stuff like that.

I also apologize for not replying to reviews-at this moment in time, I cannot go back and read them all and write replies. In fact, I have to write a Praktikumsmappe in German that's due on the seventh, and I don't have the weekend right before to work on it, so...I have to get a huge huge chunk done this weekend. . I also have to draw something that I volunteered to draw, and add the regular homework and studying on top of that...packed schedule.

Rest assured, however, that I read all reviews and cackled over them and hit my head in reaction to my stupidity at other ones and was near driven to tears by them all. Thank you so much for reading!

Again, I apologize for the lateness and the shortness, and I don't see when I'm going to be able to update chapter ten (I'll try writing during school or something in a notebook), but I hope you enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Nine:<span>_ Regenshirm _

(Umbrella)

.

"For the last time, I am _not_ taking Nana-chan with me to True Cross Academy!" Yukio's annoyed voice should have warned Rin, but all it did instead was egg him on.

There were boxes all over the floor of their combined room. Two large boxes were dedicated to clothing, one with casual wear and one with Exorcist-related clothing, one medium-sized box contained equipment of the demon-exorcising kind, a small box was filled with knick-knacks and a couple pictures, a slightly bigger box was filled to the brim with pens and writing material, and the biggest, most giant box of all…

Had _books_ in it. Worse than that, there were only perhaps _three manga volumes_ in the _entire thing_.

Rin was slightly disgusted at this fact, but the disgust was overwhelmed by the incredible desire to tease his brother as much as he could before he left the house for the next few months. After all, his little baby brother was _leaving_ him, going off to chase his dream as one of the most powerful doctors in both the standard world and the exorcising one.

"But _Yukioooo_," Rin whined, kicking out his feet childishly and _just_ coming shy of the box of dry literature, "Nana-chan will be lonely without her Yuki-chan. She'll…she'll _cry!_"

Yukio sighed and pushed up his glasses in a worryingly dangerous gesture. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Rin. Nana-chan is an _object_. She is a _stuffed animal_. Unless she were _possessed_, she wouldn't be able to move. Nana-chan is also not possessed, Rin. I'm very sure of it—if she were, she would have exploded by now."

"Of cou—what do you mean she would have exploded?"

The glasses flashed. "What I mean, Rin, is that when I was younger, I was so afraid of her being possessed that I…asked…our father for safety measures." There was a smug, self-satisfied tone in his voice, and Rin had this sneaking suspicion that 'asked' was a nice way of saying that his little brother had done something he wasn't supposed to.

"You would do that to Nana-chan?" Rin drew back in an overly horrified manner, a small part of which was not totally faked. "You're a heartless monster!"

"I would not say that if I were you," Yukio said a little coldly, "especially concerning the fate of _your_ stuffed toy."

There was a small spark of guilt that still lingered in Rin's heart for what his younger self had done to the poor toy, but he quashed it. "I was eight, for god's sake!"

"And I was seven," Yukio smirked over his huge box of books. "My reasons for my actions were also a lot less self-serving than yours."

Rin scowled. "Don't bring it up, it was seven years ago. Jerk."

"So?" Yukio dropped the box and looked over his stash with a satisfied expression on his face. "There we go, finished. All that's left is to move this over to the Academy…"

The elder twin was quiet for a moment, the cold winter rain outside drumming its fingers against the windowpanes. He wished for a couple of long, lonely moments that he could ask Yukio not to go, not to leave him behind all alone to try to deal with the real world and shut away his dreams as best as he could because of who his father was.  
>And then he remembered Yukio's delighted, timid smile when Rin told him how he believed his little brother would become a doctor one day. He remembered Yukio studying fervently into the middle of the night, pouring over normal and exorcist-related texts simultaneously to study for upcoming tests.<p>

Rin would never get in the way of his little brother. So instead, he grinned, pushed down all the hurt and loneliness, and chuckled. "Do you want some help with that?"

* * *

><p>Fujimoto's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he heard the doorbell ring. The only visitor he was expecting, he mused as he continued putting the required book onto its shelf, was one eccentric German demon. His preferred mode of entrance tended to run along the lines of sneaking in through the weirdest of places or spewing purple smoke everywhere as he transformed from dog to human-figure, just to spite Fujimoto.<p>

Earlier, right after he'd quit the bad habit in the face of the twin's birth and subsequent adoption, there had somehow been the slightest hint of tobacco to the smoke and it had driven him absolutely _mad_.

The lack of relative normalcy made Fujimoto a little worried about Mephisto's intention. They were friends—good friends, Fujimoto Shirou tended to believe—but there were times that the Paladin wondered just what went through Mephisto Pheles' complicated, scheming mind.

Even footsteps headed out to intercept the visitor, accompanied by the call of, "I'll get it, don't worry yourself, Yukio! Just keep packing up, and don't forget anything!"

Just as a muffled cry emitted from the twin's room, the grandfather clock in the corner of his office rang out. He looked at the ancient monstrosity reflexively. Half past two.

Fujimoto blinked. Mephisto was the _only_ person coming today. It was two thirty. The doorbell had just rung, but it made no _sense_ for him to show up that way! Absolutely _none_.

The door opened in the hallway, and there was a short bout of silence. Steam curled and lazily crawled towards the ceiling from the coffeepot Fujimoto had thoughtfully prepared in accordance with Mephisto's arrival. However much Mephisto _loved_ tea, especially that of the green variety as it was, after all, typically Japanese, Fujimoto knew that coffee won out by a mile. He supposed it was a German thing.

(it was also why he'd gotten some of the infamous Baumkuchen from a bakery nearby that morning, simply because it _was_ perhaps a bit of home for Mephisto, and everybody should get homesick from time to time even though the demon never let anybody know exactly what is true feelings were, not even friends that placed absolute trust in the hands of one who could and would and had no qualms about toying with that trust in the most dangerous of ways)

"…Who the hell're you?" Rin's voice was loud, and there was a weird edge in it that told the Paladin that the boy wasn't sure whether to beat whoever it was away, to laugh hysterically, or to slam the door in their face and lock every entrance into the house.

Fujimoto Shiro suddenly remembered something painfully obvious about his demonic friend: Mephisto Pheles _never _made sense.

"Hello, Okumura Rin," a grinning voice called out loudly. "It's nice to see you in the flesh! How are your fathers doing?"

He tended to plant chaos in his footsteps, now that the Paladin thought about it. Fujimoto practically ran to the door and wrenched it open, just in time to hear his son's next words

"How the hell do you know my name?" the reply was tight, and Fujimoto could _see_ Rin readying himself to pull his sword out of his armband within the tone of the words. "And what do you mean by 'fathers'?"

Fujimoto was already halfway down the hallway by the time Rin finished the word 'fathers' and had turned the corner the moment his friend began to speak.

"Why, wasn't that you I felt last night? All that anger and fear and—Hello, Fujimoto Shiro! It's a wonderful day outside, why don't we have coffee on the porch? Both young Okumuras are more than welcome to join us!"

Rain battered against the roof as if in response, and Fujimoto responded dryly even as a startled Rin failed to control the drastic dropping of his jaw to the floor, fingers twitching near his armband. "You forget that I don't have a porch, and if this is your idea of wonderful weather, then I don't want to see what bad weather is. Rin, let the poor man inside."

The eldest twin avoided Fujimoto's gaze as he stepped reluctantly to the side and opened the door a tad wider. Mephisto's grin grew a tad wider, too, as he entered the house and turned, shaking out his ridiculously frilly and pink cupcake-embroidered umbrella just outside the doorway.

For a split moment, Fujimoto remembered that old European tale about how Vampires couldn't enter one's house until they were given entry. For another split second, he wondered if that applied to demons as well.

He shook the thoughts away as Mephisto, crazy curl and clothes and that scary, predatory gleam of the fangs and eyes, turned and thrust his umbrella, handle first, at Rin. "Take it and be a good boy, would you?"

With that same, distrusting glare, Rin reached his hand out and took the dark handle of the umbrella. He let the tip drop to the floor, but didn't take his gaze off of the man's insomnia-darkened eyes. "You never answered my questions. What was that about fathers again? How do you know my name? And who the hell _are you_?" A hard, questioning look was sent in Fujimoto's direction, and he could see those eyes demanding answers _immediately_.

Mephisto opened his mouth.

Fujimoto prevented the earth from collapsing in on itself. "This is Mephisto Pheles, a…friend and colleague of mine from work. He probably heard about you from me."

The Paladin barely felt Mephisto glance at him slyly as Rin turned his attention to Fujimoto. "I didn't ask you, old man. I asked the weirdo right in front of me."

His eyebrows raised, and he felt his fears drop down to his gut and start to seed themselves. "Rin, I was only trying to tell you his _name_."

Rin's narrowed eyes grew even thinner, and the air in the room rose slightly. "I know, but I _asked him_. He has a mouth. He can talk. I don't want you hiding mo—hiding things from me, just because you think it's best."

Fujimoto closed his open mouth slowly and looked at his son, who was staring at him with anger in his eyes. Part of him flinched and felt guilty, but his son didn't _know_ Mephisto, didn't _know_ how manipulative and dangerous he was to people he didn't consider his friends.

Rin continued. "Besides, that doesn't really answer the third question." He returned his attention to the smirking demon in the room. "What the hell did you mean with 'fathers'?"

Mephisto's eyes widened comically. "What, you haven't met him yet? Not Fujimoto, bless his paternal heart, but your _blood_ father? The greatest demon in all of Gehenna?"

The Paladin felt more than saw the tension break and Rin start to go for Mephisto. "Rin!" he said, voiced raised and with a healthy note of caution in it, but he was a split second too late.

The next moment had Rin with a sword to Mephisto's throat and flames blazing across his skin and blade. "_Who the hell are you?"_

A folded pink umbrella clattered onto the hardwood floor.

"I thought your father had already answered that," Mephisto smirked at Rin, his hands raised playfully to shoulder level. But there was a sharpness to the light in his eyes that made Fujimoto's hand want to creep down to where his gun usually was.

"I mean, who the hell are you? Are you here to take me away? What the hell do you want?"

"Rin—"

"Shut _up_, old man!" Rin bit out through gritted teeth, and stared Mephisto in the eyes. It was only a few moments later that his eyes widened very, very slowly, and he took one, two steps back, his blade lowering now into a defensive position. The blue fire danced agitatedly around his shoulders, flickering here and there in distress reflected in the set of his face.

"You know," Mephisto drawled, eyeing Rin in a calculative manner but not taking a single step towards the boy, "didn't the Bible say that you should honor your parents and elders?" At the word 'parents', his eyes flicked to Fujimoto's and then continued staring Rin down.

Fujimoto knew that they were going to have words very, very soon, and he wished that Mephisto had never come through the front door. How ironic it was, he thought to himself, that he'd wished for that exact thing every time Mephisto had made one dramatic entrance or the other.

Rin opened his mouth to say something stupid, the momentary shock and fear wearing off of him with every second that passed, and Fujimoto intervened.

"Rin, Mephisto-san actually made an appointment with me for two thirty, and he is a rather busy man. I don't mean to chase you off or make excuses, but I do believe we need to talk."

Mephisto passed Fujimoto another look, this one a moment longer than the others. "That we do, Shirou. And how many times have I told you to call me Mephisto-kun? Even –chan would be preferable to _–san_. It's just so _dull_!"

This comment would have normally raised Fujimoto's eyebrows, but the man was still staring at Rin's back, willing him to turn around and meet his eyes and see the sincerity in them. But Rin, still as stone, didn't move. The flames slowly died down, and it was moments after they had that he finally sheathed his blade into the armband on his wrist. Mephisto followed the movement with his eyes, his face unreadable below the mask of detached amusement.

"…I understand. I'll…I'll just go back and help Yukio out."

"You don't need to do that," came Yukio's voice from the mouth of the entry hallway, where he was leaning against the wall. "I've already pretty much finished. Go out and try to find a job or something—you missed your chance yesterday. I think that the tourist shop on the northern side of town is looking for somebody, so you could try there."

Rin's voice had whipped around and Fujimoto saw the surprise on it. "Yukio! What—when—huh?"

Fujimoto hadn't even gotten the faintest whisper of another person being in the room, but by the twitch at the corner of Mephisto's mouth, the demon had long since realized somebody was there.

Yukio shook his head and let Rin's question go unanswered for the time being. "Sir, are you here to pick me up?"

"Not yet, younger Okumura! I'll take you with me when I finish coffee with your father—would you like to join us?"

Yukio smiled softly, politely as he answered. "Thank you, but no. I _do _have a few things I need to finish preparing, although none of them require my brother's help. Rin, do you want to borrow one of my old suits? From when I was your height, that is."

Immediately, Rin's entire body _twitched_. "I—you—_I'm still older_!"

With a sort of grace and patience, Yukio maneuvered Rin out of the entryway even as Rin protested loudly that height wasn't _everything_ and that he was older, dammit!

Then the man and the demon were left alone in the hall, with a dripping wet umbrella soaking the floor.

Silence settled over them like a thick cloak of fur until Mephisto shattered it with surprising ease. "Is the _Kaffee_ ready?"

* * *

><p>The two sat across from each other in their thick easy chairs, a small table in front of them that held a plate of Baumkuchen, a pot half-full of coffee and two pristine pink and white and purple china teacups that Mephisto had whipped out of nowhere in response to Fujimoto's attempt to serve coffee in two sensible mugs.<p>

Mephisto's first slice of Baumkuchen was in his lap, the fork laid to the side as he contentedly reached over for his third cup of coffee. "There is nothing better," he proclaimed, "than a good cup of German coffee. Splendid as always, Fujimoto. Quite a bit better than your first attempts, I must say."

Fujimoto raised his eyebrows at his old friend, still dwelling on his first cup. "Do we have to bring those back up again?"

Mephisto grinned toothily and leaned back slightly, still delicately holding the teacup in one delicate hand. "Oh, that horrible day where you attempted to actually serve me _instant coffee _in a _bag_. The monstrosity you tried to pass off as a cake tried to bite me, you know. Where _did_ you get that, by the way?"

"I was used to coffee in a bag," the Paladin protested, reaching over for a slice of the cake on the table, "and that's a secret."

It had actually been Rin's attempt to teach Yukio how to bake a cake. While Yukio had admittedly improved to the level of being able to cook his own meals to a passable level, he had never gotten the hang of sweets.

At least they didn't somehow obtain sentience now, Fujimoto thought even as he shuddered at what a nightmare the cake pans had been the last time Rin had pursued in his quest to teach Yukio how to cook. Sometimes, Yukio agreed too easily to the most dangerous of things.

"Had we not been friends for a while," Mephisto pressed on, fangs gleaming as he spoke, feigning interest in the stack of paperwork on Fujimoto's desk, "I would have thought you were conducting a poor attempt on my life. It _would _have been a rotten death, you know—dastardly demon finally felled by carnivorous cake!"

Even as Mephisto then sophistically slid his fork into the soft slice of cake on his lap, Fujimoto caught the hidden barb in the story and ignored it, unwilling to face the consequences as of the moment and a little ashamed that he _hadn't_ contacted Mephisto in the beginning. "Thankfully, I never meant to kill you."

"That is good to hear. After all, I _do _trust you. Sometimes, however, I wonder if that trust is sometimes…misplaced." As he slid the cake into his mouth, the light glinted off of one of his fangs.

Fujimoto feigned curiosity. "Why do you say that?"

"Well," Mephisto sighed, setting the fork back onto the plate with a small _tink_, "the botched up _Kaffee_ and _Kuchen_ aside, I find myself wondering why_ever_ you never contacted me during the last fifteen years about a certain person we both are very concerned about, especially considering his current status." He picked up his teacup delicately and took a rather nonchalant sip from it. His eyes, however, appraised the Paladin from over the top of the cup with its delicate pink and purple swirls and flowers.

The Paladin shrugged. "I honestly didn't see any problems with Rin—if there had been, I would have contacted you at once. There were a couple small incidences," he kept his voice purposely light and _did not think_ about those two specific events, "but they weren't much cause for worry. I did almost call you the second time, but everything resolved itself rather smoothly by then."

They had a very short staredown, Mephisto's green eyes boring holes into Fujimoto's brown ones. For the first time, Shirou broke the silence with a sigh, finally admitting to himself that the game was useless and it would be simpler to admit the truth.

Mephisto was his friend. He could trust him.

"About nine years ago," Fujimoto started slowly, placing his cup of tea on the saucer, "Rin discovered his flames."

The demon raised his eyebrows, an expression of genuine shock passing over his features. "So long ago?"

"He met up with some delinquents." Fujimoto said shortly. "And it triggered Rin's flames into waking up. Eventually he learned how to control it under my nose, and…by that time, it was too late, so I trained him."

"So long ago? And you didn't tell me? I could have helped, you know…" Mephisto said in an unreadable voice.

Fujimoto shifted his gaze away and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Honestly, I'd actually forgotten to ask you…but at the time, I was also thinking that the fewer people in the Vatican that knew of Rin's awakened state, the better."

"I had already known that Rin was Satan's son beforehand, though…" Mephisto countered after taking another sip of his coffee, "and you know that I would never have told the Vatican of his existence, nor of his powers. I could have taught him several things about himself that you could not—things only a _demon_ knows, Shiro-kun."

Fujimoto was quiet for a moment. "Mephisto. Rin didn't know he was Satan's son until yesterday afternoon."

Mephisto was silent, and then asked with a deadpan expression, "He controlled his flames without knowing he was a demon?"

The Paladin nodded.

"Even after reading texts about the history of Exorcism?"

"He hates those texts. He never was able to get himself to read them."

"…he must have noticed that something was wrong," Mephisto said, amusement lacing his voice. "Humans don't burst into flames without being harmed."

Fujimoto smiled a little. "He had noticed that he was different, but it is my philosophy that what makes a human is the heart."

The purple-haired figure raised his eyebrows at Fujimoto. "Shiro-kun, did Rin think that he was _human_ this entire time?" the demon sounded like he was going to start laughing, which somehow did not surprise Fujimoto.

"He's not an idiot," he protested, stubbornly ignoring the fact that he'd been under the same impression. "He figured out that he wasn't entirely human after a while…he…he just didn't connect the dots between his flame and Satan."

Incredulous amusement danced across Mephisto's face. "And…he doesn't blame you for this? He doesn't hate humanity for it? He doesn't want to openly rebel against the Vatican for ruining his chances at being able to live in peace as he is in the world?"

Fujimoto hesitated. "As far as I know, no. He's… he's never truly understood why he can't be a registered Exorcist, no, but he's _always_ wanted to protect others from evil."

Evil may not always come in demonic shapes, but Rin was a natural protecter.

"I do not believe that Rin can have such overwhelming hate in him. It's not in his nature—he's a kind, _humane_ person with a heart bigger and purer than most humans. He's so human that he makes certain people out to be the real demons."

_A wall of reddened, feathered cruelty stretching grotesquely bloody fingers down a rotting wood wall. A scream of disbelief, and a faith momentary lost in humanity._

Fujimoto almost missed the next words that came out of his friend's mouth, as quiet as they were. He managed to catch the humor in the other's tone as he murmured, "The son of Satan, with a heart less evil than most humans…"

A spark lit in the demon's green eyes, and the Paladin found himself anticipating _something_.

With a raised voice and a met gaze, Mephisto exclaimed, "What an intriguing anomaly! I would honestly like to get to know him better, to understand him and his motives more!" He stood up grandly and flung his arm out, sending his cape flying to the side in a dramatic _snap!_ of ruffling fabric. "Fujimoto! I have a proposition for you!"

The Paladin raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, not certain of what his demonic friend wanted. "Go on…"

"Let Okumura Rin join the Exorcist Cram School!"

Fujimoto Shirou thought it a very good thing that he had not taken a gulp of coffee right before Mephisto spoke, as he had intended. As it was, he still choked on his own saliva before spending the next thirty seconds having a coughing fit.

"You want Rin to _what?_" he choked out once he had enough air to speak, his throat vaguely sore from the exertion. "Are you out of your _mind_?"

He'd always, _always_ known that Mephisto was eccentric and sometimes a little unusal, but he'd never thought that the demon was _this_ stark raving _mad_.

"Hear me out, my dear and longtime friend!" Mephisto turned his back to Fujimoto majestically, the cloak flaring about him in a soft ripple of white and purple. "Have you ever known me to have a poor plan in mind? Skewed reasons?"

Fujimoto coughed and turned his head to the side. "Yes."

The demon twitched as though he wanted to turn his head to the side, but refrained from doing so. "I'm _hurt_, Fujimoto! Whatever would that be?"

"I seem to recall a certain birthday party you tried to pull for one of our old friends. In fact, you had volunteered to make a traditional German meal of red cabbage, these weird potato balls, and some sort of breaded pork…"

Mephisto sniffed. "The _Rotkohl, Knödel, und Schnitzel_ incident is an _exception_. Let me rephrase—have I ever concocted _any_ plan that would, were it to go awry, have enormous consequences without having secondary plans to solve any possible emergencies?"

In all seriousness, Fujimoto thought back, and shook his head reluctantly. "Not that I know of."

"E-_xactly_! First of all, however, we need to address the problem that is young Okumura Rin's illegal patrolling of the city. What makes you think that he will not eventually be stumbled upon by some official Exorcist who is less than forgiving? He will be observed for a short while and eventually pulled in for questioning, or, _worse_, execution—should he manage to slip and openly use his flames in the middle of an exorcism. This cannot continue, Fujimoto Shirou. I have already received reports of the demonic activity in True Cross City being unusually low the past year, and was half-tempted to send out an investigative team to see what the cause was. Were this to make its way to the ears of the Vatican…I do not believe it would be beneficial to _anybody_ involved. Do you see my point?"

His eyes narrowed, Fujimoto immediately countered, not incredibly keen on the idea of Rin being in a place far more dangerous than he currently was. "And how would True Cross Academy be safer? It's _crawling_ with Exorcists, the most of whom teach at the school. You should know, you're in _charge_ of the place!"

"And that is just _it!" _Mephisto crowed, swirling around once more to face him, one purple gloved hand held up, the index finger pointing to the dark ceiling, which echoed faintly with the heavy rainfall occurring outside. "_True Cross Academy is crawling with Exorcists_. Point one: it would be incredibly difficult for _any_ sort of demon to cross the Academy borders—I put up the wards myself, you know, and I _understand_ demons. Point two: The Exorcists in True Cross Academy are all under my direct command—even if they wanted to, they would not go behind my back and tell the Vatican what was happening. Were young Okumura Rin to somehow mess up, they would come running to me, and I could deter their worries. Of course, it could always be said to them upfront, if you were more comfortable with that—I _do_ detest keeping such secrets from people so intimately involved!"

"_How can you guarantee me that_?" Fujimoto said harshly, unwilling to send Rin into such a dangerous environment when there were other options available. "How can you tell me that my—that this child will not be hurt by the consequences?"

Mephisto stared at him with an intense gaze, and Shirou stared back with just as much force. Something flickered ever so slightly in those poison-green eyes, and understanding peeped out from the slight creasing in his forehead before the moment passed, and the Paladin was left to wonder if it had even ever happened…

"Shirou…it won't happened. If it does I am prepared to keep the son of Yuri Egin safe as well as alive."

It was a reminder that Rin, in Mephisto's eyes, wasn't truly Fujimoto's eyes, but…the mention of Rin and Yukio's mother made him close his eyes and remember a promise he made almost sixteen years ago.

"I understand," Fujimoto said, trying to calm himself down and almost succeeding. "But, were I to allow Rin to attend the Cram School, how would it work in conjunction with the school? Rin is not qualified for High School. He does not want to _go_ to High School. Also, how would you solve the matters of room and board and the classroom situation? Rin's expertise with a blade would be instantly recognizable."

"He is certainly good," Mephisto murmured, taking a moment to lean on the leather armchair beside him, "but he is nowhere near expert-level. It would not be a problem for him to say that he practiced kendo in his spare time. Also, I would be willing to let Rin stay at the True Cross Academy, _free of tuition and other such costs_, in exchange for him attending the Cram School class. He should enjoy the opportunity to become a part of the Exorcist ranks—does he not enjoy exorcism? Does he not enjoy the thrill of being able to protect a city of people, to be able to guard them?"

"He does. But in his case, being an exorcist does not pay the bills."

"Then let him have that opportunity!" Mephisto declared, the passion in his voice causing the Paladin to seriously start to consider the option. "Let him have the opportunity to enjoy doing something he loves, and make a living off of it!"

In the silence, the clock chimed four times. Mephisto didn't even give it a glance, his gaze set intently on Fujimoto instead.

"So…" he said quietly, almost _slyly_, "what will it be? You do not have much time to make your decision, Fujimoto."

The Paladin opened his mouth, and then closed it slowly. "I…I cannot answer you properly. I do not want to make a wrong decision—not again."

The demon shook his head slowly. "You cannot afford to be afraid of decisions, friend. What you must do is think—what is best for Rin? Children may dislike their parents for making decisions right after they are decided upon, but perhaps find out that it was truly for the better that they were made."

Fujimoto looked down at his hands, and folded them together. They clenched, and it was with absentminded curiosity that he watched the veins stand out against his skin. He was getting old, he realized with faint surprise. He was getting old.

Suddenly everything seemed to be moving too fast for him. Rin was fifteen now—a far cry from that, dare he say it, sweet six year old looking up at him with excited eyes as he showed off his special trick , the trick he'd made himself sick over just to earn his father's praise.

Couldn't…couldn't Rin be old enough to make his own choices?

_Rin isn't here though…_ his mind whispered worriedly. _Rin isn't here to make that choice, and so you have to make it for him._

He hesitated.

_'I do not believe that Rin can have such overwhelming hate in him'_ he reminded himself. _He may resent you. He may love you. But eventually…that bond can be repaired, can't it?_

The situation he was in was a lose-lose situation. Either he turn down the offer and Rin find out about it, and become angry that he wasn't afforded the opportunity to live a dream he'd never been allowed to dream, or he took it up and Rin become angry and frustrated that Fujimoto had made yet another decision for him, that he had to go to school again after finally, _finally_ being free from its grip.

_What is better_?

Fujimoto sighed heavily, and weighed the options a while longer. He heard some papers being shifted aside, and looked up at his friend.

The amulet, meant to protect and hide Rin from himself and others at the beginning and now simply an odd little ornament devoid of power, dangled from one outstretched finger.

"This is well done," Mephisto said casually. "Are you planning to use it for anything else?"

Fujimoto nodded, taken unawares. "Yes. It's to seal the Koumaken…Rin doesn't need to be carrying the sword around in full sight, especially not where it's easier to reach and draw than it is to draw Tsunagari."

Mephisto nodded, then looked at Fujimoto slyly. "_Bond_, is it? Does he have many of them, or?"

The Paladin blinked. "He…he never made many friends at school—he kept skipping school and getting into trouble, and people didn't have a good impression of him. But what bonds he does have are…incredibly strong."

"Another argument," Mephisto said slowly, "would be that in the Cram School, the small classes tend to lead to a closer bonding between the students. Wouldn't Rin benefit from that as well? He cannot learn to know the world as well with only you, Yukio, and the clergy members as windows into it."

Fujimoto blinked, and suddenly he saw Rin laughing in his mind's eye, walking next to a few blurry figures that seemed to be laughing as well.

Rin had never looked forward to school…but, perhaps with the addition of comrades, close comrades who liked him and viewed him as the closest friend there possibly could be, then maybe, just maybe, he would…he would enjoy it.

Life was a huge gamble, after all—most decisions were not without risk.

And with that, Fujimoto made his decision.

"Mephisto…I'll take you up on your offer. But," he warned, looking at his friend as seriously as he could, "if anything happens that endangers him, I _will_ pull him out of your cram school. Second chances will not be given."

Sharp teeth gleamed in the yellow light of the office. "Understood, my old friend. I'll take care of him as best as I can. In fact...

"There will be no need for a second chance."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Translations:

Kaffee= Coffee.

Baumkuchen: I have never seen and never eaten, but it is a very popular German cake in Japan... Literally translates to 'Tree cake', and has to do with how it's made.

Kuchen= cake

Rotkohl= red cabbage

Knoedel= wierd potato ball things. Very popular in southern Germany, from what the Germans tell me...it has an odd texture, to be honest. And the o with the dots over it is impossible to write in here, so the accepted substitution of 'oe' is used here.

Schnitzel= a kind of breaded pork. I've actually not had it yet...

Thank you for reading! I'll see you, at the very very very very VERY latest, in July! I do hope to have something in June, but am skeptical about May...we'll see where this goes.

_Updated 27 April 2012_

_**I'm sorry for spelling Yuri Egin's name wrong. It is fixed._


	10. Transvestimus für Anfänger

**A/N:**

...why. Why didn't I write during summer break? Why didn't I?

I'm sorry for the late update, but I figured that I wasn't going to make you guys wait until the END of September. I will do my very best to write another chapter, but homework does not help anything. AT ALL.

Thankfully, long bus rides to soccer games and back does help. I wrote over half of this chapter on one of those.

Again, I'm sorry, but I hope you enjoy! From now on, I'll try to update **on the last day of every month** whether it's a Friday or not. It gives me a wee bit more leeway in my mind...but updates are not guaranteed due to my workload and my current obsessions (Homestuck and Merlin and the subsequent haunting of archives for sufficiently good fanfiction). Things SHOULD go better in October...

At any rate, here it is! (And fair warning, this is really where the T rating comes in. There is swearing and innuendo in this chapter, especially the last bit)

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Ten:<span>_ Transvestimus für Anfänger_

(Crossdressing for Beginners)

.

The tension was so tangible that it could be cut.

With _stuffing_.

On the far passenger side, as close to the door as he could manage, Yukio had his head stuck in some sort of notes—perhaps something Fujimoto gave him to prepare for his debut as a teacher's aide—and was muttering to himself. Every once in a while, light blue eyes would glance down the two rows of seats to his family, and he would then nervously glance back at his papers.

Also on the far passenger side, seated nearer to the back of the limousine, Fujimoto kept staring at his folded hands, and at the thumbs laid almost too carefully on top. He also kept darting his gaze upwards and across the vehicle, but every time he did so, his mouth would open slightly before he thought better of whatever he wanted to say and return his gaze down to his folded hands and rigid thumbs.

At the back of the car, facing the windshield, Mephisto Pheles sat back into his cushioned red seat quite contently and played with his cell phone, the ornaments on it cheerfully jangling as he pushed buttons and maneuvered the chess pieces on its tiny screen around the digital chessboard. He absentmindedly hummed a little tune as he did so, and at points his grin turned scarily, _predatorily_ sharp. Absorbed as he was in his game, he did not sneak glances around at the other inhabitants of the vehicle, and contrarily seemed absolutely unconcerned with the tension screaming through the air.

Seated across from and slightly in front of Fujimoto, staring resolutely out the window, was Rin himself. His chin propped on one clenched fist and his eyebrows drawn tight over his eyes, he did his best to stare a hole through the glass and so relieve some of the whirling confusion of emotions currently haunting him. Anger, joy, confusion, distrust, disappointment, relief…and instead of staying nicely, neatly separate, they had all decided to twirl around each other into this big huge knotted _mess_.

Yuki'd say it was like his side of the bedroom.

Outside the window, the scenery was flying by, but Rin wasn't paying attention to it. He was actually only using the window as an excuse to _not_ look at _anybody_ inside the limo, even as he fumed and puzzled over the previous conversation he'd had with his—with the old man the night before.

Upon hearing Fujimoto drop the fact that he'd be able to get an Exorcism education after all, he'd been first overwhelmed by the horrible news that he'd have to actually attend high school to do so. That was bad enough, really—he'd been trying to avoid that situation for the past few months of his life, and here he was, on the way to some uppity, prestigious school that he didn't have the qualifications for.

And the classes would therefore be _that much harder_.

Fun.

But afterwards, he'd started to poke and prod and question Fujimoto, about _why_. Why _now_? Why _ever_? Why hadn't he been asked—this was his life!

His fist clenched and his eyebrows tightened over his eyes. _"I never intended for you to get mixed up in the Exorcism community."_

That…that had _hurt_. All these years, all this time, he'd held onto the faint but distinct hope that he'd be able to fight alongside his father as an Exorcist, like Yukio did. All these years, there'd been this _longing_ that had finally been all but doused by the revelation that he was Satan's kid. More than that, he'd thought that maybe, once he grew up enough and got old enough, Fujimoto would…_support_ him, like he had all these years.

Hearing that he'd no intention of letting Rin be a part of his and Yukio's secret world had _hurt_.

He felt Fujimoto's gaze on him, felt his shoulders tense up for a brief moment. As he felt Fujimoto shift his attention elsewhere, they relaxed again.

"Aaaah, Shirou-kun! Would you care to play a game of chess with me? This little game has gotten a bit too easy against the artificial intelligence installed—I'd appreciate a bit of human flexibility to keep me on my toes!"

Rin heard the Paladin shift over with a deceitfully relaxed agreement, and grimaced as he remembered how he'd tried to convince Rin that…that he'd had Rin's interests in mind.

"_Rin…the last thing I wanted was to throw away your dream once the chance came for you to fulfill it…in a safer way than I alone could have ever arranged."_

"_Why couldn't you have done—you're the fucking _Paladin_!"_

_A desperate edge to his voice. "And I am being shut out of the order…Rin, in Cram School, you may—I hope— somehow prove yourself in ways that make the Vatican think twice about killing you."_

That hurt too, but it was more a hurt that his _father_ had hurt his own chances and his own reputation to bring Rin up, and that by awakening, Rin had harmed his guardian.

He didn't ever want to meet this Vatican, that only looked at where-you-came-from and not at who-you-are. If he did, he'd…he'd lose his temper. He was absolutely sure of it.

And he was so _confused_. Did Fujimoto want him in the order? Did he not want him in? Why were people so stupid, why was _he_ so stupid? And why did it…

"…_I…I also hoped that you could have chances you haven't had before. Have the chances to know what a _friendship_ was like."_

Why did it all make him want to forgive the old man so much?

He leaned his forehead against the cool glass and let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes. He…he couldn't let the old man get off so easily. Not for keeping that secret, not for deciding things for him, not for _anything_.

Fujimoto Shirou would have to work much, much harder for Okumura Rin to even _start_ considering forgiveness.

* * *

><p>The key slid easily into the lock of the door, even though there was <em>no way<em> it should fit. But, as was typical of most Exorcist keys, it managed somehow to sneak past such technicalities and fit just perfectly into the keyhole. Without really thinking about it, Rin twisted it and the doorknob at the same time as he pushed on the door.

He faced the hallway head-on, but was not expecting the medieval grandeur of the high arching ceiling, the elaborate tapestries hanging from floor to ceiling, and the light softly pushing through stained glass windows.

His mouth slackened, and his hand fell, drawing the key from out of the keyhole with it. "W…woah…"

Rin could only stare down the red-carpeted hall, and trace his eyes furiously over the escapades and triumphs of various Exorcists over demons of every shape and size. He took in the scenes, took in the stitched weapons gleaming white and silver and red, and almost felt as though he couldn't breathe.

This was Exorcism. This was defeating the bad guys and saving the day, this was what he'd dreamed of when he'd thought about joining the Order.

Rin suddenly found himself that much more excited for Cram School, even _if_ he had to go to this stupid True Cross Academy to do so. He'd brave anything—_anything—_to become a Knight. Even the thought of his flames and their implications didn't dampen his mood. He'd have secrets, he'd hide things if he had to—he wasn't made for deception, but he'd…he'd try.

This was his dream, and it was finally coming to _life_.

He finally snapped out of his wonderstruck state and shook his head. After sliding the key to join another on the large ring Fujimoto had given him upon exiting the limousine, he dug around in one of the pockets of his uniform coat and pulled out a rather crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding it, he examined the writing.

"…uuuuuum, it says to go to room…3-A?" He looked at the nearest oak doorway, and then at the bronze plate next to it. On the plate were the characters _3-H_.

The doorway to the left had an _I _emblazoned on its distinguishing plate, and so Rin turned to his right and started moving slowly.

Those tapestries deserved to be admired, and if anybody accused Rin of gawking they did not have enough appreciation for such stunning artwork, and they did _not_ deserve to be in this hall.

Ever.

In a few long minutes he reached a plain door, its plate bearing the name _3-A_ on it, and he stood before it, feeling just a tad nervous.

He'd never really done well, entering a classroom, but…this was different, wasn't it? It was _Exorcist _Cram School, not _normal_ Cram School. They weren't going to be sitting a desks the whole time. They weren't going to crack open books every class—he hated that. This was…_Exorcism_.

Rin expected a lot of hands-on learning, and he was going to _love_ it.

Nearly trembling with anticipation, he set his hand on the doorknob, and then entered the room.

…which looked almost exactly like a normal classroom, except a bit dustier and older than the stuff they had in the Academy itself. It also had towering piles of _junk_ at the back of the room, and it all looked quite useless.

Blinking, he stuck his head back outside, and peered closely at the plate next to the door. Yup, that was a three, and that was the letter 'A'.

Rin did not have a good feeling about this anymore.

He withdrew back into the classroom, and as he slouched forward to one of the seats in the front, he examined the people there. Five guys, one girl. In the row closest to the door but furthest back sat a kid all by himself, fiddling with some sort of rabbit-puppet. His eyes seemed squinty, and Rin wasn't quite sure about the vibe he got from him.

A couple of desks from that guy was another, wearing a hoodie that fell limply down his body and managed to cover or shadow all of his face, save his mouth and chin. He was playing a DS, punching buttons and snarling quietly from time to time, but seemed otherwise quite unremarkable.

The only girl in the class sat right smack dab in the middle of the room, and was busily inspecting her appearance with a pocket mirror while dabbing lipstick onto the corner of her mouth, where it had smudged earlier. She had long blonde lashes and, though her chin seemed a bit masculine, she had some of the biggest boobs he'd ever seen. Her blonde hair was set up in high pigtails that waved and curled down to her shoulders. She glanced at him, sensing the gaze, and then glanced away.

The last three in the room were sitting close to each other on the far side of the room, and were continuing to talk to each other quietly, occasionally sneaking glances at him. The biggest and probably the most muscular out of them had a cock's tail in his hair, colored a vibrant yellow and slicked back in a way that screamed '_look at me, I'm cooler than you_', and Rin couldn't help but agree with that statement just a little bit. Another, built a bit skinnier but with at least some height to him, had a head full of bright pink hair and was laughing in an easy-going fashion. The shortest was a bald kid with big ears that was grinning a bit shyly, but was listening to the bigger guy's story rapidly. They seemed like a cool bunch, but they were tight-knit, so…he didn't see himself fitting in.

Shrugging, he slouched down into his seat and started fingering his wristband absentmindedly, the pendant weighing heavily on his chest. He hadn't sat there for more than four minutes before the door opened again and two more girls entered the room, one with long, thin black hair and the other with a shorter cropped hairstyle in brown. They glanced around, but continued chatting with each other. The brown-haired girl smiled easily and did most of the talking, but in a quiet sort of voice that was hard to hear. Her darker-haired friend nodded most of the time, but Rin's attention was drawn to her weirdly-shaped eyebrows.

He hadn't seen those in real life before, come to think of it—only in mostly-forgotten history textbooks.

That…was so _cool_. If nothing else, there were some really cool-looking people in his class, which already set it apart from normal classrooms.

Maybe…maybe things were looking up a bit after all. Maybe he would fit in here—even if he was technically Satan's son, and there was bound to be some sort of hate-vibes aimed in that demon's general direction.

The general chatter quieted down, and a hint of impatience filled the air as everybody's gazes inevitably fell to the clock quietly ticking in the corner. _4:03_, it read, and Rin rolled his eyes. If this was his old man's class, as he feared it may be, he was bound to be at least five minutes late. Rin didn't quite understand why, but his father tended to be bogged down by things so badly that he was always, _always_ late to meetings.

If Rin were ever Paladin, though, he'd be late too, and with good reason…those erotic magazines filled with well-endowed girls? Absolutely _amazing_. He'd found a couple in Fujimoto's study once before the Paladin had caught him. Rin had never seen those magazines, or any other like them, in his old man's room ever again. If that's what he had in his office, then Rin didn't blame him for being late.

Thirty seconds later, though, the door was opened, and a voice commanded, "Rise! The teacher is present!"

Eyebrows slightly higher than usual, Rin stood and pushed back his chair even as his classmates did the same. He was earlier than usual—but the figure following his old man had to be the cause for that.

Yukio _hated _being late.

Fujimoto smiled at the class, and faced them, hands behind his back. "My name is Fujimoto Shirou, and I am your teacher for both Demon Pharmaceuticals and Marksmanship. In Demon Pharmaceuticals, however, I will simply be advising and overseeing, as my colleague here—Okumura Yukio—will be training to take over the class."

Yukio bowed. "Please take care of me."

After his teacher's aide had stood again, Fujimoto nodded and addressed the class. "You may all be seated!"

Rin sat, and very purposefully slouched in his chair for good measure. He _felt_ the disbelieving glances, but stubbornly maintained his bad posture, if only because he knew it ticked off Yukio to a great degree, and Fujimoto to a lesser one.

To his surprise, though, Fujimoto didn't bat an eye, and Yukio did nothing more than smile a little tighter than he had before. "I will now take roll," his little brother said, and adjusted his glasses on his nose.

Rin took this as his cue to stare at the ceiling absentmindedly and zone out until something resembling his name was said. Therefore, he completely missed all names called until they reached the 'o's.

"Octavius Angelina!"  
>Something rustled behind him, and Rin turned around to see that big-busted blonde raise her hand and reply in a surprisingly deep voice, "<em>Here<em>!"

Fujimoto glanced at the student replying and blinked twice. He then, with a tiny smirk, dropped his gaze down just a bit. The foreign student was clueless for a moment, and then flushed. Her jaw tensed.

Yukio, unfazed at the English reply, continued. "As much as being bilingual can be an asset, Octavius-san, please speak Japanese in this classroom in the future. Okumura Rin!"

"Yo, glasses," he said nonchalantly, raising his hand in a limp wave as he grinned toothily.

"Okumura-san, please show the teacher and his aide more respect in the future," Yukio deadpanned in reply.

Rin's jaw dropped, and he straightened up in his seat. "But—You're my little brother! Emphasis on _little_! What's this with _respect_?"

"Yet I am a full seven centimeters taller than you, not to mention several ranks above you. Please discard the familiarities in this classroom." Somebody snickered behind him.

He stuttered nonsense before he finally was able to string together a few words. "That's—that's—Cheap shot! I did _not_ deserve that, you spotty four-eyes!"

Yukio simply continued on down the list. "Shima Renzou."

As the pink-haired boy replied, Rin slouched down again in his chair and glared at Yukio, trying to ignore Fujimoto's grin in the background. Just Yukio _wait_. Rin was going to surpass him, both in height _and_ in rank, and then he'd have _nothing_ on Rin!

And Rin was going to grow. He _knew_ it—he was just a late bloomer, wasn't he? They existed in the world! And he was _one of them_.

Yukio called off the last name on the list, which was rather short to be honest—why'd the guy with the puppet only have one name, anyways?—and then placed the sheet of paper on the desk.

"All are present and accounted for, outside Hisoragi-san. He, however, has an excuse—and it's the only one that counts in this class."

"What is that, Okumura-sensei?" the pink-haired boy called out cheekily, a grin on his face. The bald boy next to him tried to shush him, but only succeeded in looking incredibly nervous and nothing more.

Yukio raised his eyebrows, Fujimoto leaning back in the teacher's seat behind him. "He's been hospitalized."

The teenager looked a bit abashed and fell awkwardly silent as Yukio continued on his discipline spiel.

"What this means is that nothing short of severe injury or illness should prevent you from attending class. I can let you off once—but the second time you skip, you will be ejected from the program."

Rin felt something heavy fall on his shoulders and shivered under the tense atmosphere.

"I want to stress that this training is _important_—surely you would have known that, having signed up for exorcism cram-school. However, in the past, there have been students who have taken advantage of leniency and squandered the time here to do frivolous things such as pick up girls or attend late-night parties and illegally consume dangerous amounts of alcohol." Yukio's glasses flashed, and his eyes were stern. "Also, while they will not be as severely punished, being tardy to class should not become a regular habit. In terms of attendance, you should endeavor to come to every subject covered in cram-school. I understand that demonology is a huge workload on top of school itself, but I have faith that you can handle it. Should conflictions between your two schoolings occur, we can take matters up with the Headmaster and sort things out. If you need to drop a class, so be it. If you decide that the subject matter covered by cram school is too difficult to understand or too dangerous for your liking, you may drop out."

Yukio's eyes flicked to him, momentarily filled with worry, but then they returned to view the class as a whole and the moment passed. Rin was somewhat pleased that his brother was concerned for him, but Yukio didn't need to worry himself over Rin. Rin could take care of himself—he always had.

"Are there any questions thus far?"

Dead silence, all but for the nervous fidgeting from both that English girl and the pink-haired teen. As nobody raised their voices, Yukio carried on.

"All right. Who here has received a mashou already?"

After a slight hesitation and a look from Fujimoto, Rin raised his hand along with a few others in the classroom.

"Those who have not received a demon-wound, I would like you to be ready to step to the front. We'll begin to lure the goblins out of the room—don't give me those looks, it _is _rather old, and it has been unused for some amount of time. To do so, we take a favorite of theirs, fermented blood, and dilute a drop of it in…:"

Rin tuned Yukio out again, and stared at the ceiling. It was actually really cracked, and in some places it looked as though the contents above the boards were threatening to slip out and down.

When was the old man going to talk, anyways? Yukio was stealing the show, and even though he hadn't forgiven Fujimoto yet, he certainly wondered. His father'd always come back from teaching complaining about the fresh batch of idiots he had to teach that year and how the opening speech had taken so long and the _paperwork_ he was going to have to do…

He sent Fujimoto a sly glance, and with a bit of surprise noted that he seemed to be nodding off, his head tilting back only to jerk forward again every few minutes. A toothy grin came over Rin's face, and glee bloomed in his chest.

_Just wait for Yukio to notice, just wait…_

Judging by the muffled snickers that broke out behind and to the left of him, somebody else had seen as well. Rin tilted his head back to look, and, surprise surprise, it was that dyed-hair kid. His seatmates were sending him disapproving and confused looks, until he nudged them and murmured under his breath. The rooster-haired guy looked, and then did a double-take as he took in exactly what the oblivious Fujimoto was doing. His mouth dropped open at the same time the sweet-looking bald midget pursed his lips together as if he was trying to stop smiling and flushed.

Rin smirked victoriously and turned his attention back to the ceiling, slouching even more in his chair. That one in the left corner looked kind of like the bamboo he'd once tried to keep in his room after two weeks of care—wilted and drooping, no matter what kind of care and attention he poured onto it.

"Okumura-kun, could to tell me the distinguishing traits of a goblin?"

He started and scooted up in his seat. "Wha?"

Yukio's eye twitched. "The distinguishing traits of a goblin—could you describe them?"

The teenager furrowed his eyebrows and thought long and hard. "Uuuuuh…they're usually small but can get really big? They've got these big bulging eyes, too, and…um…"

Rin trailed off, desperately searching his memories for a better picture of them, but every time he'd fought a goblin or hobgoblin, it had been dark and he had been on an adrenaline rush or emotionally disturbed.

Yukio was quiet a moment, and then exhaled. "I see that you have not, in fact, read any of my demon-classification books. Very well—Konekomaru-kun?"

Before the bald monk kid could say anything, Rin blurted out, "Hey! Wait, I wasn't done!"

His twin raised an eyebrow at him, and he blathered on.

"Y'know, the eyes? They're big huge targets, but if they see you coming, they've got this like hard protective clear covering that shoots over the eyes and makes it hard to gouge them out. It's better to attack them either from the belly, and stab or slice them open that way, or…or, like, if you have a sword, which I kinda do, bring that down over their head and cut 'em in half. It's not really messy, 'cause they disappear real fast, but sometimes there's this soot that stays behind and you gotta be careful about cleaning that off the blade, 'cause it can stain it and ruin it and…and…"

Rin was suddenly aware of the hush. "Um, yeah."

As he glanced over at the Paladin, Fujimoto was staring at him with a look that said urgently _shut up shut up shut up_, and he was all sorts of worried and nervous but only showed it through his eyes. Rin closed his mouth rather wisely.

Yukio was also quiet for a moment. "Well, apparently you've got enough reading experience in how to kill the things, but not in how to identify them. Please fix this imbalance of knowledge."

Rin decided to slouch and glanced really quickly at Yukio and then back to the corner, blushing to the tip of his ears at the attention. "'Kay."

He thought and thought and thought as Yukio diluted the rotten blood in the milk and the goblins started crawling, about four or so, out of the ceiling and walls. They were thankfully small, but that didn't stop his hand from twitching towards the sweatband on his wrist or his eyes from following them when they moved towards his brother and his father, or the way he started when one started to sluggishly attack but was stopped by Yukio's rather formidable glare.

He would have gone after the demons had it not been for his classmates, who were lining up and extending an arm to get ritually sliced open. However, the one thing really, really keeping him back was that look in Fujimoto's eyes when he was talking about his experience in killing demons.

Apparently, there was something wrong with the classroom, and if he said the wrong stuff, the Vatican'd know. And then they'd all be screwed.

* * *

><p>Room assignments came after the whole intimidation speech and the meeting of their instructors and going over the curriculum for the classes. Personally, Renzou was looking forward to Aria classes, and maybe some of the martial stuff, 'cause they'd be working on staff-katas as well, but it all seemed a bit of a bore to be honest. Couldn't they go out there, and, he didn't know, rid the world of the evil that was demonic insects?<p>

_They creeped him out so much_.

He shuddered and clenched the key tighter in his palm. They hadn't been told who their room partners would be, mostly because that cool old man (he was the Paladin that was kinda awesome but what was he doing teaching?) had laughed and said that he'd rather they have a surprise waiting for them when they were assigned their rooms.

He'd already found out that neither Bon nor Neko were rooming with him - they were rooming together (the lucky bastards), so that was a huge bummer. That left the puppet kid, the Okumura kid, or the skipping-class kid, and he was kinda hoping for the skipping-class one because that meant there was temporarily a free bunk for him to place all his stuff on.

Other than that, he'd honestly take the Okumura kid over the puppet kid, because the puppet kid left this sort of unsettling feeling in his stomach when he stared at him too long, and he feared what would happen if he had to _room_ with the guy.

Of course, that could have been the extra-spicy curry he'd been forced to eat earlier in the day. It never settled well.

He rounded the corner and headed down the hall, making a beeline towards his own luggage when he saw it lying outside the door. Man, this school had excellent service—made him almost glad that Bon and Neko had convinced him that yes, attending an elitist school would be worth it. Renzou was smart, but he wasn't _that_ smart, to be honest.

The pink-haired teenager fumbled with the key in the lock of the door and twisted it, pushing the bolt from its nook in the doorframe and opening the door. He clumsily pocketed the key, next to where the other one was that led him to the cram-school hallway, and bent down to drag his luggage in.

Sometimes, he pondered as he pulled at the duffel bag that was refusing to budge more than it had to, Renzou envied Bon. All those muscles, all that strength waiting to be unleashed upon the world, the strength that would certainly…certainly give him a tiny little dull edge when he eventually went up against Satan.

Had it been anybody else who'd claimed that they'd do it, he would have scoffed. As it was Bon, though…he believed him.

Bon kept his promises.

By the time the first duffle bag was in the room, which, strangely enough, held _four _bunks and _two_ desks, he was sweating and panting and seriously considering calling Bon over to lug his bags in for him.

"Hey, you need help with these?"

Renzou looked up at the vaguely familiar voice, a relieved smile on his face, and said, "Yeah, sure, than…"

He trailed off as he saw the Okumura kid, the one who slouched and was Okumura-sensei's brother or something, in the doorway with both of his remaining bags on his shoulders. The other teenager blinked innocently at the slack look on Renzou's face.

"What?"

All Renzou could think at that point was, _oh my god oh my god what _is _he_?, but managed to croak out a quiet, "It's nothing. Thanks."

The guy shrugged his shoulders, _the bags still on them what the hell_, and managed a small grin. "'S not a big deal. Oh, by the way, Yukio's rooming with us for some unknown reason, so I'm going to be taking the bottom bunk of his top bunk."

Renzou blinked as the relatively short, black-haired boy made his way over to the other duffle bag and dropped them. As they hit the floor with a heavy _whump_, dust flew up from the immaculate floorboards.

_What. The. Hell_.

At this point, the guy was already carrying his two bags of belongings into the room, whistling off-key to himself. "Oh, yeah, Yukio's gonna be a bit later, so if you wanna sleep now, all we have to do is turn off the lights and spread stuff all over the floor so that the considerate idiot'll trip because he can't turn on the lights and deny us our 'much needed sleep', and his glasses aren't all that great when it comes to dark places."

"Wha…who are you again?" Renzou squeaked out, before unsteadily sinking to his knees and absentmindedly unzipping the bag he had.

The guy turned around, grinning and rubbing the back of his head in a nervous gesture. "Oh, it's okay! I'm, um, Okumura Rin, but you can just call me Rin if you want to!" He flushed at the extreme informal assumption, but kept grinning and didn't take his words back.

He did not believe that, not two hours before, he'd looked at the kid coming into the classroom and thought he was a bit scary.

"Oh. Okay, Rin," Renzou said clumsily, and then carried on. "In case you didn't remember my name—'cause, y'know, we weren't really formally _introduced_, I'm Shima Renzou, but you can call me whatever you want."

Impossibly, the grin grew wider and the eyes glinted brighter. "Okay, Renzou! Or do you really prefer Shima, I'm not good at this kind of stuff…"

Renzou stopped unpacking and stared at the anomaly that occupied the space before him. "Uuuum…to be honest, I'm not too comfortable with you calling me Renzou at this point—I'm not trying to say I don't like you or anything—but I…just don't know you that well. I guess Shima works."

"Okay, Shima!" Rin said, and then flopped down on his bed. "Maaaaan, I'm tired. Don't you get really sleepy when the instructors babble on and on and on about shit you've already heard about a hundred million times before? It's like, the cracks in the ceiling are only interesting for so long before you stop counting how many times you see something like a flower or sword in the cracks."

Shima started to relax just a bit, and let out a laugh. "Yeah, they seem to think that beating stuff into our heads is the only way to make things work, but it's like they're beating it so hard that they shove it out of our ears. And then they wonder why we're not paying attention!"

The teen on the bed across the room from him sat up abruptly. "I like you already," he proclaimed, and then unabashedly added, "I liked you from the moment you noticed the old man nodding off and started _snickering_." His grin was rather toothy this time, but it didn't really bother Shima too much.

"Yeah…wait, what're you doing calling him the old man? I've personally got no problem with it, but even _I_ wouldn't call the _Paladin_ that!"

Rin blinked twice before chuckling nervously, fidgeting with his hands. "Ah hah hah…I'd kinda forgotten for a moment what the Paladin means to other people…"

His eyebrows, painstakingly bleached pink, shot up into his hairline. "Whaddya mean, other people?"

"Well," he fidgeted even more, glancing down at his hands, "he did kind of raise me and Yukio since we were babies."

In addition to your eyebrows stretching your face one way, your jaw decided to cooperate and pull down. "What?"

"Yeaaaaaaaaah…but I don't really like him right now, he's pissed me off, so I might say some mean things about him—you don't mind that, do you?"

All Renzou could do was close his jaw, then open it, close it, and finally say, "_Who_ are you again?"

"Uuuuh, Okumura Rin? Yukio's my brother? Fujimoto's my fa—my father _figure_? I live in a church?" Rin furrowed his brow. "What, is having a family not normal?"

Renzou stared at him. "You. Are. Awesome."

Rin blinked at his roommate, then seemed to brighten up and glow with some sort of nervous energy. "You…you really mean that?"

"Of _course_ I mean that!" Renzou squawked in disbelief. "You're like, the most weird thing to happen in my life since Bon came around and decided he was going to fight demons and that Neko and I should join him!"

"Oh," Rin said, still grinning. "How long have you known them, anyways? You guys seem really close."

"Oh, man," Renzou grinned, "we grew up together. You know Bon, right? The guy with the cock's comb?"

Rin nodded enthusiastically, shoving his bags under his bed absentmindedly. "Yeah, he seems really cool."

"Of course he is! But you should have seen that one time, when he decided that he wanted to prank the hell out of the snake-sisters, and how he'd…"

By the time Yukio came into the room about an hour and a half later, Rin and Shima were rolling around on the floor laughing, having sometime changed out of their uniforms. Through the tears and the sight of a stern-faced Yukio saying that they should 'get to sleep about two hours ago, because they had a long day ahead of them tomorrow', Shima decided that Okumura Rin wasn't a bad roommate to have anyways.

_And_ he got the top bunk to spread his stuff over, because he _did_ get the skipping-class guy instead of the puppet kid, and honestly? Sharing a room with one of the coolest, weirdest guys ever to walk the face of the earth and his _student teacher_ (oh, the cheating possibilities! The grading keys left unknowingly unguarded during a brief trip to the bathroom! Life was going to be _great_) wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be.

* * *

><p>If Angel complained one more time about that 'lecher of a man staring at (his) boobs', Shura was going to rip off the bouncy attachments herself. And, considering they'd been as attached as they could be without grafting or gluing them on, it would <em>hurt like a bitch<em>.

"That man is a disgrace to the name of Exorcists everywhere!" Angel proclaimed, still flouncing around in his skirt and school shirt. "He does not deserve to have the name of Paladin! However could the Vatican have assigned _him_ to such a high and stately position? He was clearly staring at my _brea_—"

"Would yer _shut up_?!" Shura snarled, totally engrossed in the surprisingly engaging video game on the Nintendo she'd recently bought for her cover. "My god, Angel, one could think that yer'd actually _turned_ into a girl, vagina and hormones and all! Get over it, yer breasts are _fake_. They are rather large, but they are," She paused the game and looked up, carefully spelling out the word, "F-A-K-E."

Angel huffed and sat down on the other bed in her room, arms crossed horribly daintily over his chest in a defensive manner, and _why was he crossing one leg over the other_? He looked like more of a priss than_ usual_!

"It is the concept of the matter that counts," he sniffed, "but, honestly, he could be sexually harassing every girl that comes into arm's reach! My _God_!"

She stared at him with such a deadpan expression that she was sure Rin was finding some horribly mangled cooking skillet in a corner somewhere, because she'd stolen all the deadpan-ness she could from it. "Angel. I was his protégé for some time. I think I'd have noticed if he had molested me. And, even though we've grown apart recently, I don't think he's started to molest _anybody_." She unpaused her game and proceeded to mash buttons in. This level was incredibly difficult, but the challenge had unexpectedly made her blood pump faster and that familiar rush flow to her head

Angel looked abashed. "Okay, perhaps that was a bit over the top," he admitted sheepishly but with a tone in his voice that said 'I never wanted to say I was wrong but there wasn't much of a way to keep arguing that didn't end with you ripping my breasts off', "but I still think that he should have an eye kept on him for any overly heated stares."

Shura rolled her eyes. "If it makes yer quit complaining about yer fake boobs and their innocence being fondled by Fujimoto with his eyes, sure. I can do that. I can look for signs that may point to him getting out of control with his heated, passionate gazes. By the by," she said slyly, "yer uncomfortable when he does that?"

The Knight looked at her as though she'd spontaneously burst into blue flames and showed no sign of recognizing it. "Of course I am! Who _wouldn't_ be?!"

"Awwwww," she crooned, and by the look on his face, Angel seemed to realize that he'd said the wrong thing. "I didn't realize yer swung _thatta_ way! Got a spark of hate-love in yer heart for ol' Fujis? Unfortunately, I think he's rather straight…lookit the way he was starin' at yer fakeity-fake boobs!"

He sputtered and turned beet-red in the face, eventually bursting out with an "I am most certainly _not_!" and fuming as she simply chuckled and continued her game, cursing when she lost her last life and had to resume the level from the start.

Eventually, he calmed down and simply stared at her, finally adopting a position more manly, but tragically didn't really work in his skirt as he placed both feet firmly on the floor and leaned on his knees with his elbows. "Shura, could you possibly put that away for a few more minutes? We need to talk business."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, I thought yer wanted love advice or t'rant about somethin' stupid like yer boobs or somethin' of th'sort. Whaddyer want?"

"We need to talk about Okumura Rin, and what he mentioned in class today."

Shura paused, then decisively saved her place in the game and shut the Nintendo off. She rolled into a sitting position on her bed, hoodie still on but slacks thankfully off, leaving her bare legs to fold themselves criss-cross. "I'm all ears. Whaddyer wanna discuss, an whaddyer hear? I didn't hear anything, my game was too interesting, and I've been through all this shit already without any desire to repeat it."

Angel slowly started explaining how, when questioned about the physical attributes of the common Goblin (he started waxing on poetic about how much of an idiot Okumura was, if he didn't even study the creatures he was supposed to exorcise until Shura threatened to kick him in his still very masculine groin if he didn't shut up and get to the point sooner rather than later), Rin had instead gone into a spiel about where the weak points of this particular demon were, and how you avoided staining and potentially ruining a sword with the sooty remains of a demon.

"Obviously, no matter how Okumura Yukio tried to cover up for him," Angel said, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow in thought, "Okumura Rin has had experience with dealing with demons. However, at this moment in time, it only explains the relative lack of reported activity in this area of Japan—it does nothing to support the theory that he is, in fact, related to Satan in any way, shape, or form."

Shura let out a rattling sigh. "I just feel like this is just some wild goose chase that'll end in nothin' but trouble for everybody. Yer sure he's Satanic? An' if he is, how d'we prove it? He ain't demonic-lookin' or anythin'."

"I suspect," he said slowly, looking up at Shura seriously through half-lidded eyes, the mascara still thick and dark on his lashes, "that Mephisto Pheles has a hand in that. His appearance."

This somehow did not shock her as much as she thought it should, but she raised her eyebrows nonetheless. "Mephisto? What would he gain from it?"

Angel shrugged. "Knowing the demon, entertainment. You know him and his little games—he enjoys _toying _with us, manipulating and pushing people into positions he desires. It's probably part of the reason Okumura Rin came to True Cross Academy at all—if the Paladin had any sense, he'd have kept his demon-boy locked up tight as long as he could. It would have been one of the better options, were he _really_ concerned for the thing's safety. Of course," he added, tossing his head back and lifting his nose at the matter, "if I had been Paladin and were Okumura Rin the son of Satan, I would have put the thing out of its misery as quickly as possible."

Shura rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we all know yer little boner over the Paladin position. But yer'didn't answer my other question—how d'we make mister Okumura Rin reveal his horrible demony side?"

After shooting her a nasty look, he sighed. "That is what I'm unsure about. How do we keep our anonymous identity and reveal the beast Okumura the elder is simultaneously? Do you know of any who have suffered extensively at the hands of Satan, all those years ago?"

"Uuuum," she leaned back and stared at the ceiling, kicking her legs out slowly in a contemplating manner, "I think that most of the staff were lucky 'nough to come outta that unscathed. I'd haveta look at the records, honestly."

He nodded gravely. "Then that will be our next series of operations. Is there anything else you wish to add?"

She stopped kicking and furrowed her brow. "Concerning the Operation Whatsitsname, nah. But…" Shura brought her chin down and stared at Angeal, a grin threatening to spread across her face. "Yer sure yer can lie low in our esteemed sword-swingin' class?"

He raised his chin. "I think the question is, can _you_ lie low?"

"Oh absolutely," she grinned, "and I know exactly how. But do _yer_? Have yer even _thought_ about it?"

"Of—of course I have!" he replied indignantly with a giant huff. "I will display a certain ineptitude with the blade, but one that shows a slight hint of promise within its swings, as to more readily and quickly wield my majestic demon-slaying blade once more."

Shura looked at him, almost disbelieving. "Yer mean…yer'd play with that screechy annoyin' thing around _Fujimoto_?"

He opened his mouth, and then shut it, and before he could speak again, she pressed on.

"An' sure, yer good with th'blade, but are yer good enough to stop yerself from movin' ways yer know yer should? I'm not, and that means yer sure as _hell_ not."

He flushed, and started to say, "If you're trying to imply something about the level of my swordsmanship skills, then I—"

"I'm not talkin' about brute strength, I'm talkin' bout yer lack of ability to slow yerself down. Iiiiiiiiiidiot."

"I—I'm going to retire to my room. I suggest you sleep soon—we have a long day ahead of ourselves." Angel abruptly stood and (hilariously enough, Shura thought) smoothed down his skirt before turning and stalking over to the door.

But even in his movements, there was a sort of grace that only came with a battle-hardened warrior used to being jumped on at the most unusual and inopportune moments, and Shura knew that, if she wanted the other teachers and even the _students_ to not notice, they were going to have a long road ahead of him.

Angel was good, she had to admit to herself, but he couldn't turn that smooth stride off and turn into a spoiled brat who knew little to nothing about fighting.

"Before yer leave," Shura called as he exited the room, "do yer want me t'help yer with yer makeup an' all tomorrow?"

Her reply was a slammed door, and she cackled for the next minute at the glimpse of his irritated red face.

* * *

><p>The next day, a sheepish Angel, desperately trying to save face, knocked on her door with makeup in hand and one stocking higher than the other.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **^w^

I have no idea how crossdressing works in the real world, by the way, OR if there are glue-on boobs, but let's just say it's all Shura's plan to make this as uncomfortable for Angel as possible.


	11. Das Gärtnerchen

**A/N:** So. Long time no see. (laughs nervously) I mean...better late than never, right?

Couple of people to thank right now before we get started, though. real-ice-tea on DA managed to get the ball rolling in my sleep-deprived brain at one in the morning, so you have them to thank in part for this chapter and the next. crayonrose helped with making sure that my German was right for the chapter titles and, as usual, my lovely sister Oreramar was especially helpful in helping me edit these last two chapters and make sure what that aforementioned sleep-deprived brain wrote actually made sense.

Another reason I was able to write was, oddly enough, work. I have downtime sometimes at work and am allowed to have a laptop with me-which I used to write just a little bit most days, as long as I wasn't feeling destroyed by work itself, haha. So yes. This is actually where I am now, uploading this chapter.

Just to make sure that you guys remember what happened last chapter (I had trouble remembering it-wrote a scene over 2,000 words long before I was told by my sister that hey, I already wrote that scene from another POV last chapter), here's a very quick recap!

**Last time:**

_Rin has just discovered that his father never meant for him to enter the world of Exorcism, and gets really ticked off at him. Class goes well enough until Rin manages to answer an identification question the worst way he could (ie: hinting that he has some experience where he really shouldn't have that experience). After class, Shima Renzou has an encounter with the enigma called Okumura Rin-looks like a punk, has super scary strength, but is probably one of the nicest guys aside from Neko that he'll ever meet. They become good friends, and Yukio is probably wondering what kind of hell he's been assigned. At the same time, Shura has to deal with Angel's complaints about having to crossdress and his suspicions about Rin._

Let's get on with it now, then!

(Edit: 6/21/14-fixed a bit of the first scene, just so that Shima's character is a little more canon-compliant)

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven: <em><span>Das Gärtnerchen <span>_

(The Little Gardener)

.

Mornings were always disconcerting. He would wake up and stare at the ceiling of his familiar room, eyes easily adjusting to the pale morning light peering around the edges of the curtains, and think _I am—_

His hands would clench by his sides, wrinkling the bedsheets and stiffening them with the sweat on his palms. He would glance over at his _Shakujou_, its six gold rings shining, unmoving, pinned against the wall at awkward angles by the heavy weight of the staff itself. _It's good at scaring insects away with how noisy it is_, he would think, looking back up at the ceiling, his fingers pressing the fabric of his sheets into the skin of his palms. _It's good for your __disguise__ sanity, sanity, you'd go insane if all those bugs got within even a meter of you._ His eyes would close, and he would begin to gather himself up.

He would suck in a deep breath, let it fall out of his open mouth slowly, always in control, mentally stitching the mask back over his face. As his eyes drooped open, the corner of his mouth would tug into a sly little grin. _I am Shima Renzou_, he would think. _Bon and Neko are my best friends. I am deathly afraid of bugs. I am a weakling who wants to be a knight._

That particular morning a few days after they all transferred to the Academy, however, Shima Renzou of the Illuminati woke up to the slats of the top bunk staring him in the face. The blinds and the drapes were closed, so it took him a while to adjust to the sudden darkness. _I am Illuminati_, he thought, and did not think anything of it.

Hands loose, he began to get up. The sheets were pulled back with near no sound, his movements smooth and economical. The weave was a bit smoother than usual; probably because they were being worn out—he would have to remember to tell his brothers that he needed new ones. They would notice if he got them himself, and he was the incompetent one, the youngest, the most foolish. It wouldn't do for his mask to slip, not when he was doing so well putting it back on in the morning.

Shima Renzou rather liked western beds. There was something satisfying about swinging his legs over the edge, over a precipice and that split-second sensation of falling before his feet hit the wooden floorboards underneath with a slight _thump_. He knew that he could make less noise, but letting go made him a little more content than being in control all the time.

Something stirred in the darkness at the top of his vision, and he looked up from his feet to look straight into the woozy green eyes of a Nekomata. "_Nyan_?"

He froze.

This was wrong. This was wrong. What the hell was a Nekomata doing in his room? He didn't have any demons in there and Illuminati usually sent their messages more subtly. His cover was going to be blown, what the hell was he going to _do_, his mission was so important and—

His heart tightened in his chest and his lungs were painfully still. His eyes were horribly wide, and he didn't know why they were because he ought to be able to control that better. He almost panicked to the point of calling upon his summon—damn his cover, it was already blown, and his brothers would try to kill him so he may as well get the upper hand now—but then the demon cat blinked at him, made wet smacking sounds with its mouth, and lay its head back down on some sort of lump on another bed that wasn't there the last time Shima had checked his room.

Shima finally took in a startled breath as he remembered. _Crazy Okumura-kid and strict-ass Okumura-sensei. Weirdo absentee guy whose bed Scared-of-Bugs-Renzou is using. _True enough, Okumura was sleeping on his side facing Shima, his stupid face relaxed in sleep and drool trailing out of the corner of his mouth. There were creases on his face from the pillowcase, and he looked pretty dumb at the moment. Shima Renzou didn't know how he could stomach him, how his mask could even laugh at Okumura's stupid stories and his stupid jokes. He didn't know—_Shit_, he thought, bringing his hands up to cradle his face, his heart pounding in fear. The darkness didn't increase that much, but the gesture was comforting, especially against images of the society torturing—nevermind. _Fucking hell, it's off_, Shima thought, and knew that regardless of reasons he had, or reasons he shouldn'

He inhaled, and then exhaled, each breath longer and deeper than the former. _I am not Illuminati_, he told himself, hands clenching and unclenching on top of his thighs. _I don't know what Illuminati is. I don't know much about anything. Bugs are scary evil creatures that should be exterminated from the earth. I've started to hate my best friends because they don't have to—no_, he rebuked himself sternly. _No, I've never hated them._

Shima Renzou lay back down, pulled the sheets over his legs and then his chest again, and closed his eyes. _I am Shima Renzou. Bon and Neko are enemies no they're nakama wait yes, nakama, they're idiots acquaintances my best friends. Me, jealous of them? Why should I be? They deal with a ton more shit than I do. I am deathly afraid of failing bugs. Bon and Neko are my friends, best of friends, bugs are scary. Bugs are scary. _He took in another deep, quiet breath, and then let it fall out his open lips again. The mask was harder to stitch on after he'd discarded it for even two minutes. He blamed the darkness for the unraveling of the façade—no light to remind him of his mission, no light to show him the way to the shadows. _Bon and Neko, bugs, weak weak knight with no skills whatsoever at Taming. Summoning demons? That's for weirdos._

He grinned a little, drooling a bit as he felt the mask slip back on. _I'm the Great Pervy Demon, have been since I was little. I love girls, girls are so cute and adorable. I love boobs. I love legs. Ooh, hips are pretty good too. And I really love skin. _

Shima paused, and considered his list of things he liked. _Legs, hips, skin, boobs…you know,_ he mused to himself, _Izumo Kamiki-chan is pretty hot._

* * *

><p>Rin could feel his heart pounding, tears running down the contours of his cheeks as he watched the drama unfold before him. His breath caught in his chest, and he could feel his nose starting to run.<p>

"No, no, no, don't do that!" He was all but bawling at this point, and he scrubbed at his eyes with the crook of his elbow. It only ended up smearing tears and snot all over his face and the red fabric of his sweatshirt, but the action made him feel better. "I can't take it, it's too sad!"

Over by the window, the simple straight-backed wooden chair in front of one of the desks creaked. Rin froze mid-sob.

"Rin," that pesky spotty four-eyes said, slow and low-toned, "that doesn't sound much like homework."

The older twin peered over the top of his manga (hidden from view by a copy of the Encyclopedia of Lesser Demons that Yukio'd chucked at him the day before for sleeping during class), eyes wide and innocent. "Nuh-uh, this is—uh—it's totally homework, y'know." A nervous chuckle found its way up his chest and out of his mouth without his permission. He winced.

Yukio half-turned towards him, and shoved his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. His eyebrows were quirked up in disbelief that even Rin had to admit he deserved. "Actually," he drawled, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "I believe that what you have in your hands is my copy of Square."

"Hahahaha, what? Me? With your copy?" Rin's eyes shifted over to the left and then back at Yukio, and another nervous chuckle escaped him. "Nah, that can't be me!"

The curtains were pulled back, as usual—Shima, who'd pranced over to Bon and Konekomaru's room a few hours earlier, insisted on letting some light in during the morning, confessing sheepishly that he couldn't sleep without at least a little light. The streetlight was a ways away, but Rin had shrugged and let it go. At least, at times like this, he could pretend that there was something horribly interesting going on in the courtyard below them.

His brother sighed. "You know, I'd thought about getting those introductory-level tomes for you. I regret not doing so."

"What?" Rin finally dropped the book and Yukio's copy of Square onto his chest, and winced a bit—damn, that encyclopedia was heavy. "You—you mean those copies of kiddy books you were looking at a couple days ago?"

Yukio's eyebrows climbed higher.

"Why the hell would I need those?" Rin's hands were gesturing all over the place, tear-and-snot covered as they were. "Dude, what the hell? I'm not a kid anymore!"

The corner of Yukio's mouth twitched upward as he held out a hand for his manga magazine. "Technically, you know…"

Rin made a face, but pulled it out from under the huge encyclopedia that they were somehow expected to remember stuff from. "I know I'm not good at that kind of book-reading-studying-stuff, but that's no excuse to even think about giving me that kind of thing!"

As the Square magazine made contact with Yukio's hand, there was a knock on their door. "Hey, it's me."

Rin's comical expression deepened, but was tinted with a bit of confusion. Fujimoto hadn't tried to talk to them for the past couple days, and he didn't understand why he was doing so now. He hadn't really messed up recently, he thought.

There was a pause before Yukio said, "Come in." Rin thought that maybe he'd waited for his big brother to say no, and as the door opened, he kind of regretted not saying anything.

The first think Rin thought when he looked at their father was _he looks old_. There were bags under his eyes, and the crow's feet at their edges seemed more defined than usual. The creases around his mouth had deepened, and there was a stoop to his back that normally wasn't there.

Rin sat up in bed, the encyclopedia falling down to his lap so it was open to somewhere in the _M's_. "You okay?" He asked. No matter how much they fought, no matter how many stupid important things he kept from Rin, he was Rin's Dad.

A wry smile tugged at the old man's face. "I've been worse."

As Yukio frowned, so did Rin. He wasn't so oblivious as to notice that Fujimoto hadn't actually told them if he was okay or not. Judging from Yukio's expression, he imagined that it was far less than okay.

Fujimoto shut the door behind him, and then locked it, all without taking his eyes off the window. "Yukio, could you shut the drapes? Talk to Rin while you do it."

Rin blinked. Okay, now he was out of his element. He looked towards his little brother, whose face was just starting to show signs of understanding.

"As I was saying, Rin," Yukio said, "I know you've got at least a basic knowledge of demons, but unless you can demonstrate the ability to categorize and recognize demons on sight, I may have to get those books after all."

The elder Okumura narrowed his eyes as Yukio started to tug the curtains close. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Yukio's back was to him, but the snort that he let out said everything.

"I'm not that stupid!"

"Well," Yukio tugged the drapes close, his sweater inching up his side as he raised his arm, "if you prove to me that you can differentiate between two or more species of demons, then I'll let it go."

The smile on Fujimoto's face was worth the teasing. "Hey," Rin protested, "I do that all the time! I did it with the Goblin thing, so what're you ragging on me for?"

Yukio finally turned around after the drapes were as shut as he could get them. He was sporting a smirk, the kind that tugged up only the left corner of his mouth. It wasn't a nice smirk.

"…Shut up." Rin glanced to the side and skewed his lips to the right of his mouth in a pout. He crossed his arms defensively and shifted to lean against the wall, the top of his head skimming the bottom of the bunk above him.

Surprisingly, Yukio did. Rin looked back at his little brother and saw that the smirk was gone, and that he was once again frowning at their father. As if on cue, the elder Okumura glanced over as well, shaking the fringe out of his eyes.

Fujimoto was leaning against the door, fingers pushed up against his eyes, his tinted glasses tilted towards the ceiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, the sound like a low sigh, and then dragged his hand down his face. As his eyes opened, he sought out Rin's eyes, and then held them.

"Rin," he asked, slow, "do you know what's going on right now?" There was a look in Fujimoto Shirou's eyes, like regret or sorrow or something like that. Rin jumped to the worst conclusion, and he felt himself go very stiff.

"Did…did somebody die?" he asked, dread beating against his chest and pulling at his heart. "Was it Shura-sensei?"

The Paladin's face quirked up into a grin before smoothing out into seriousness. "No, nothing quite that awful. But there's certainly a dire risk—you remember what I told you about the Vatican?"

_The Vatican will kill you_. Rin nodded, and frowned. Yukio shifted his weight in the background, but Rin's focus was on Fujimoto's—Dad's—face, the fear that lay in the creases in his forehead and the corners of his brown eyes.

"The Vatican," Fujimoto took a deep breath and moved away from the door before sitting down on Rin's bed, close enough that Rin could feel the body heat, "the Vatican is a very large worry, but we also have concerns about another organization that could target you."

"What do you mean?" Rin felt like his eyebrows might connect at the rate they were furrowing down. Yukio went around to Rin's other side and sat down—all over the pillows, the little four-eyed spotty jerk.

"Illuminati," Yukio said, and Rin looked over at him to see that his eyes were narrowed behind the thick lenses. The younger twin caught the older twin's eye for a moment, and then looked back at Fujimoto. "You have evidence of their movements?"

Their father grimaced. "It's all very circumstantial, and we don't know if they know Rin's identity as…well…" he looked around, and then shrugged. "You know. We don't know if they do, but what we have suggests that they've planted a spy in the Cram School classroom, and what other reason would they have to infiltrate a group of rookies in training?"

"Any conjectures on the identity of the Illuminati spy?" Yukio's hands were steepled under his chin now, and Rin could almost hear the gears in his head moving. Sometimes he was jealous of Yukio's sheer ability to think, but then brotherly pride suffocated that envy before it could really lay any roots.

"It's hard to say." Fujimoto leaned back, hands propping himself up on the bed. "It could be anybody—Shura-chan has her suspicions on Kamiki Izumo-kun, Paku Noriko-kun, and Takara Nemu-kun, but that's only because they don't interact much with the rest of the class."

Rin scrunched his nose up and tilted his head at his Dad. "Hey, wait, what about that Yamada dude and Angelina-chan?"

Fujimoto got a really funny look on his face, and focused on Rin's face—particularly the eyes. The younger felt a blush coming on and averted his eyes.

"Whaaaat?"

"Rin," Fujimoto began, "do you…do you have a crush on Angelina?"

He felt himself turn beet red. In fact, he was sure that if his face got any hotter, flames would start to flicker through the pores of his cheeks. "Maybe," he said sullenly, feeling the odd urge to play with his hands. Yukio's amusement behind him was palatable, and he raised his voice defensively in response. "What's wrong with that?"

The Paladin turned his face away from Rin and was beset by a sudden coughing fit. Rin felt the embarrassment and defensiveness slide away and be replaced by concern. He leaned over on instinct and rest a hand on Fujimoto's shoulder (like his father did when he was little). "Hey, hey, are you okay?"

Yukio was shaking on Rin's other side, and the elder twin whipped his head around to look at his brother. Tears streamed down the laughing fifteen-year-old's face, and his hand had lifted his glasses up so that Yukio could try to wipe the water away. Rin felt his jaw drop a little as he finally recognized the chuckles that were wracking not only Yukio's body, but Fujimoto's as well.

Blue flames flickered across his cheeks as the blood rushed to them—he probably looked odd, a distant part of himself noticed, with all that contrasting red and blue—and he hunched his shoulders up even further. "Shut up!"

"Oh, Rin," Fujimoto said, his voice almost a sigh, "Rin, you poor, poor boy."

"She's not very girly, Rin," Yukio gasped out between giggles. Rin thought, vindictively, that it made him look much less threatening, even with his stupid tall height all scrunched up under the top bunk.

The flames flickered higher as Rin studied another one of the miniscule cracks in the ceiling. It was harder to see than the ones in the Cram School classroom. "Shut up. She has pretty hair and a bigger—well," he felt his cheeks heat up even further, if at all possible, "she smells nice."

His father slipped an arm around his shoulders, and Rin tensed up for just a second. Fujimoto's arm tensed, but it relaxed and pulled Rin's shoulder to the side of his chest. "Rin," Rin's dad said, "we're not trying to make too much fun of you having a crush. Having a crush is completely normal, and it's not your fault that Angelina makes a very, very convincing girl."

Rin's lips pulled into a pout again, and then he registered what exactly the Paladin had said. He blinked, looked up at Fujimoto's face (it still had a grin on it, the bastard), and opened his mouth. "Huh? Convincing girl? Whaddya mean? Why would she need to be a convincing girl when she's already a girl?"

There was a pressure on his right shoulder as Yukio laid his hand on it, and then began patting Rin—slow, sure pats that were somehow mocking, commiserating, and sympathetic all at once. "Rin, Angelina-kun isn't _really_ Angelina-kun."

"Umm, then why does she go by Angelina?" Rin felt like either Yukio and their Dad had gotten really stupid overnight, or he was missing something incredibly important again.

Fujimoto sighed. "Rin, do you remember what happened when you started pointing out the…well, the differences between Goblins and Hobgoblins?"

"Yeah," Rin said, slow and not quite understanding where this all was going, "I kinda do. You looked really upset and I shut up. I mean, the Vatican wouldn't much like me, would they? And there might be spies and all, so—" He paused, realization dawning. "Angelina-chan's a Vatican _spy_?"

"That's not the worst of it," the Paladin nodded, grip firm around Rin's bicep, Yukio's hand heavy on his shoulder. It felt safe. "She is actually a he."

Rin's crush cracked into little pieces right around the area where his heart was. "Wha?"

"Arthur Auguste Angel," Yukio intoned, thumb rubbing down the side of Rin's shoulder, "Upper First Class Knight, 30 years old, human male. Despises all things demonic, loathes anything of the 'satanic' sort. Very radical in that aspect."

After a small pause, Fujimoto put in, "He is very fond of his hair, to be fair."

The flames on Rin's cheeks subsided, but mostly because tears were streaming down them. "Wha—how—why—how does a thirty-year-old man pass off as a _girl_?" _Why did I fall for it_, was the next thought, and the one after that was _I'm not gay!_

"Actually, that's where Yamada comes in. See," Fujimoto began, and there was that damned grin tugging at his face again, "Yamada isn't really Yamada, either."

Rin threw up his hands, dislodging both his father and his brother's grips on him. "What the _hell_? Who is he, another Vatican spy?"

Next to him, Yukio coughed into his fist far too long for it to be anything other than poorly concealed laughter.

"No, it's actually Shura."

Last time Rin saw Shura, she as curvier than any other woman he'd seen and had as big a bust as fake-Angelina did (how did the dude get such a convincing rack, anyways?), and tended to wear as little clothing as possible. "What the hell do you mean Yamada is Shura-sensei?"

"She just is," Fujimoto chuckled as Rin buried his face in his hands, "and she's also the reason Angel is such a convincing Angelina."

Rin pulled down on the skin of his cheeks so hard that his vision was reduced to a blurry slit of light. "Why is she even _helping_ him, then?" Everything was so confusing. People were people that they weren't? Shura-sensei was helping the guy who'd probably cut all Rin's limbs off if he had the chance? What the hell was going on?

His father's hand was in his hair and ruffling it before Rin could blink, and he squawked at the invasion. "It's...complicated. Shura is still on our side, and she wants you to know that if you don't take care of Tsunagiri, she's going to cut your fingers off with its rusty edges."

Rin shuddered.

They were all quiet for a while longer, Fujimoto's hand still on Rin's head. "Well," the Paladin said at last, "that was more or less what I came in here to do—I'm sorry I couldn't earlier, things have been somewhat hectic."

With a shrug, Rin said, "Eh, it's fine. You're in charge of a bunch of people, go get your shit together."

"Hey," Fujimoto barked, a smile in his voice as he tapped Rin across the back of the head, "language."

"Yeah, yeah," Rin groused, crinkling his nose and rubbing at the back of his head.

When he glanced back at Fujimoto, there was that slightly manic grin of Rin's childhood on the Paladin's face. He clapped Rin on the back, and said, "Good man."

Pride blossomed in Rin's chest.

"If we're done," Yukio said, standing and taking a couple steps toward his closet, "I do have a request to fill, an errand to run, and Rin has some studying to do."

Fujimoto snapped his fingers and Followed Yukio a couple paces, leaving Rin feeling almost alone on the bed. "That's right, you're going to restock on herbs, aren't you?"

Even without looking at the textbook in his lap, Rin knew exactly what he was not going to do that afternoon. "Hey, hey, four-eyes, does that request of yours have something to do with exorcising stuff?"

Yukio and Fujimoto turned to look at him with the same blank look. If Rin didn't already know that they were Satan's spawn (him moreso than Yukio), he would have suggested that it was inherited.

"I'm not sure if it's such a good idea if you go, Rin," Fujimoto said, his grin gone and a slight frown on his face. "We don't want to call any more attention to you, and Yukio did tell you that you need to study for class."

Rin stood so fast that he nearly rose off his feet with the force of his legs pushing against the floor. "Studying?" He held the thick tome up so that the title was facing them. "Y'know I'm not so good with this reading stuff! I'm a tact—ta—person who learns by _doing_!"

Fujimoto grimaced. "Rin, you are still technically a Page who has no authorization for field-orientated learning. Your class will get to that point, but at the moment, you have no such clearance."

"Oh, come on!" Rin yelled, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, tome still held in his right hand. "I've already been out in the field!"

His father and his brother looked at each other, and then back at Rin. Yukio gave in first. "You do make a point."

But Fujimoto was shaking his head. "He might be making a point, but the fact remains that Rin needs to keep a low profile."

Yukio shifted his weight to one side and rested a hand on his hip next to his open closet. His stance looked really, awfully girly to Rin, but Yukio was facing Fujimoto with his calculating face and Rin didn't think that making his brother aware of how feminine he appeared was going to help get the twin-duo out on the field together again. "Rin's right when he says that book studying is wasted on him—if we are in such dangerous times, what is wrong with ensuring that he survive? For that matter, what's the harm in letting him come with me? It's almost expected that brothers stick together. There is a chance that if I leave him behind, it would be viewed with just as much suspicion as bringing him with me."

After a deep inhale and a long exhale, Fujimoto looked at Rin. "If you go," he said, "You have to follow Yukio's instructions, and do your best to let Yukio handle most, if not all, of the action."

Rin screwed up his face and opened his mouth.

His father interrupted him before he could get a word in. "Rin, I _need_ you to take a supporting, non-combative role in this. Please."

The elder Okumura bit his lip and looked over at Yukio. His brother gave him a short nod, and he said, "If he doesn't need my help, fine."

"And if he does," Fujimoto continued, stepping forward to grip both of Rin's shoulders in his hands, "then, under no circumstances but the most dire are you to use your…gifts. Do you understand me, Rin?"

"You got it, you got it," Rin mumbled, hating how he understood that if he was found out, Fujimoto's ass was burned. "Just get outta here and let us do our job."

"Technically," Yukio began.

Rin turned his head in his brother's direction and stuck out his tongue. Yukio quit talking with a smirk on his lips, and Fujimoto's hands slid off Rin's shoulders. When he looked back at the Paladin, his tinted glasses were tilted just enough that the glare of the bedroom light was obscuring them.

"All right, then," Fujimoto grinned. "I'm off. See you both in class."

Right after that, Yukio started pulling on his exorcist coat, threatening, "If you don't hurry up, Rin, I'm leaving you behind." With a yelp, Rin pushed himself into the space between the bunk bed and Yukio, sliding the doors of his closet open with more force than necessary. In his hustle to get ready, Fujimoto left the room somewhere between Rin pulling a dark red hoodie over his head and slipping on a wrinkled white dress-shirt found on the floor.

Rin slipped the tie around his neck in a loose knot; he didn't like constriction around his neck. His fingers fumbled as he asked Yukio, "So where're we going?"

Yukio, the little jerk, was already leaning against the door, drumming his fingers impatiently. "Exorcism Supply Shop Futsumaya, for one. I'm running low on some herbs and standard exorcism supplies."

"And your stupid little bullet-sleeves, right?" Rin tugged on his favorite red boots with the weird faux fur at the top and started lacing them, left side always over the right. Watching Yukio go through the tedious task of cloaking all of his standard bullets with silver covers had long stopped making any kind of sense to Rin.

His brother sighed. "Don't call them stupid. They do their job, they do it well, and they are far less expensive than solid silver bullets."

"Tch." Rin adjusted the rune-marked sweatband on his wrist so that it was easy to access the seal for Tsunagiri. His dad was right and all about keeping his head down, but Rin wasn't going to allow Yukio to go into even a supply store without being ready to back him up. "They still sound silly. I mean, what bullets need sleeves?"

"They're called jackets." A ring of keys were pulled out of Yukio's pocket with a jingle and were currently spinning around his finger

"And what bullets need _jackets_? That's stupid." Rin stood up and smirked at his brother.

Yukio raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Are you done yet?"

"Never been readier." Rin grinned, wide and toothy, crossing his arms over his chest and throwing his shoulders back.

The keys stopped spinning, jangling as Yukio pinned a key between his thumb and forefinger. He smiled back at Rin, but as he inserted the key into the lock of their bedroom door without even looking—okay, the whole keyhole thing was weird enough, Rin didn't need Yukio doing it and not paying the slightest attention to where the key went to make it even weirder—the expression grew sharp. "By the way, it's good to see how you and Father have reconciled."

Rin's arms fell from their position across his chest as fast as the grin fell from his face. "Wait, what? Whaddya mean, we've reconciled? We haven't done that!" He'd have noticed if he had forgiven the damned old man.

The smile had turned into a smirk as Yukio turned the key in the lock. That and the arched eyebrow spoke for Yukio far better than his words ever would have.

Belatedly, the memory of Fujimoto clapping him on the shoulder, ruffling his hair, and Rin's lack of aversion to any kind of touch or advice came to mind even as his dad's wrinkled, weary face appeared. He felt his face pale.

"Goddammit," Rin growled as his brother snickered and opened the door, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders. "Goddammit."

They exited the room like so—Yukio's shoulders straight and strong, and Rin's already short form hunched over in anger, muttering profanities under his breath as he realized that Fujimoto had somehow already wormed his way into Rin's good graces. _Goddammit_.

* * *

><p>Yukio did not allow Rin up the hill to the store with him, no matter how much he wanted to and no matter how much he knew Rin deserved it. <em>He's already more advanced than most of the cram-school students<em>, a voice whispered. _Being in the shop is hardly the hardest thing he's done, and even Rin knows better than to start touching random things_.

But logic drowned it out with cool overtones of _these are the rules, they can't be helped_ and _doing this will protect Rin protect father protect Rin_, and Yukio winced as he delivered the news to his older brother.

"Rin, you're going to have to wait a few moments."

If Yukio had been feeling any less guilty, Rin's dumbfounded face would have been comical. "Huh? Wait, you're just going to buy things, why can't I come with?"

Feeling the glasses slide down his nose again, Yukio pushed them up as he said, "Unfortunately, this shop is only open to licensed Exorcists. You're not…you're not quite an Exorcist yet."

Rin's nose screwed up and his eyes closed the way they did when he was both annoyed and confused. It had happened a lot today, actually. "I thought that I was—"

"Learning, yes." Yukio interrupted, one foot higher than the other on the steps up to Futsumaya's shop. "But officially, that is no grounds for you to set foot in the shop proper."

"But," Rin said, hands in fists at his sides and eyes wide open again, somewhat angry, "but we're partners! Brothers! This isn't even a fight!"

Sometimes, Yukio hated the True Cross order with its stupid rules, its tendencies to look at a person and judge them based on their genetics rather than the strength of their heart. He hated how a capable fighter and a promising young man like his older twin was hindered by the dangers posed by the bureaucracy Rin was training to protect, would always protect.

_But these are the rules_, he thought to himself, _and you are not in any place to protest them_. _Not yet._

"I know," he said, simply, "but that doesn't mean the Order does, or that they should. I need you to stay down here—don't follow me up, all right?"

Rin glared down at the ground and scuffed at it with his red boots. They were bright against the grey gravel of the path, the dark wood of the steps leading up to Futsumaya's shop, and the overgrown, somewhat under-watered grass. For a moment, the only noise was the grinding of stone against stone.

Yukio finally had enough. "Rin. Are you going to follow me up?"

"No," Rin said, somewhat sullenly. "I won't. I know that…y'know, it's stupid of me to do it 'cause it'll get Da—the Paladin into a tighter spot than he already is." He looked up and stopped pawing at the ground with his foot, eyebrows furrowed. "So I won't follow you up, alright?"

For a moment, Yukio studied Rin's face more. There was anger there, yes, and uncertainty and frustration. But there was also a hint of understanding, and that's what really made Yukio's mind up.

"Okay," Yukio said. "I'll try to make this as fast as possible."

"Just go already!" Rin crossed his arms, huffing and harrumphing. "Or I really will follow you up!"

For a moment, the younger Okumura was tempted to warn his brother not to go off wandering or touch anything, like Fujimoto on mall trips when they were seven, but he shrugged it off. Rin was old enough to know better.

He smiled one last time at Rin, then set up the steps to Futsumaya's. She was usually fairly good about getting his orders filled quickly, and had most of the supplies he needed on-site.

The trip up wasn't very long, but it allowed for some introspection. Being a teacher meant that he saw Father far more than Rin did, but it hadn't given Yukio much time to have a decent conversation that ran a low risk of being overheard. Earlier had been the first time he'd heard about the _Illuminati_, and the consequences of a spy in their midst worried him.

Since—well, since forever, Yukio mused as he passed over another crack in the wooden steps with weeds blooming out of it, Rin had been his first and his most important concern. Being in the Vatican and trying to run interference on their attempts to oust Rin as a son of Satan was difficult enough—to do the same in regards to the Illuminati was almost madness to consider. He didn't know how long he could protect Rin in these conditions.

_At least_, he thought, finally reaching the door to the supply store, _we know who the Vatican spies are and have one of them on our side. With the Illuminati…_

They didn't know enough about the organization, period. Not who their members were, not who the spy in the class was, and nothing much about their goals except for the fact that they were most certainly not in the interests of Assiah.

His hand fell on the handle of the door. The brass was cool under his palm, but he could feel the anti-demon wards etched into the metal and had to wonder how such measures would affect his brother.

_He's not that demonic_, Yukio thought, tugging the door open, eyes flitting past the design on the wood. _That part's been mostly sealed. He's more human than demon. He always will be, no matter what happens_.

Mouth dry, he swallowed a couple times before stepping over the threshold and calling out, "Good day, ma'am."

Moriyama-san turned to look at him, thick brown hair piled into a wide bun on the back of her skull. "Why, a good day to you as well, Okumura-sensei." Her _kiseru_ pipe was still smoking, and Yukio could smell the burning _kizami_ tobacco in the air.

The sleeves of her red haori rustled as she swiveled around to look at him pass the long table filled with merchandise. The low light of the shop glinted off the intricate demon figure at the end of the pipe, its mouth emitting smoke like one of the mythical western dragons that Yukio'd seen pictures of in his youth.

"I'll take two leaves of _Valeriana fauriei, Hypericum erectum, Pteridophyte_ and _Marrubium_, please."

"Thanks for your patronage," she said, dry and eyebrow arched as she held her _kiseru_ between her index and middle fingers. "Anything else?"

Yukio grinned at Moriyama-san. "Of course. I need one liter of C-Concentration Holy Water, 300 grams of iron sand, and six dozen of my usual holy silver bullets. If at all possible," he added, remembering how Rin's stashes of sword polish and tissue paper were becoming something rather pathetic, "I'd also like a jar of standard C-grade exorcism_ choji_ oil, and probably some _nuguigami_."

Moriyama's eyebrow arched higher. "That's a rather odd addition to your usual bulk order."

Yukio's eyes creased into arches as he smiled. "My brother has started cram school," he said, the truth and lies mixed up so that they could not be distinguished from one another. "He's keen on being a Knight, so I figured I could help him get started."

She grunted and pulled his crate of silver sleeves out from a drawer under the counter. "He's already got a blade, then?"

"It was a present," he said, "for when he decided to go the Exorcist route." Best keep it simple, he told himself, face blank but for the smile.

Moriyama-san shrugged, the movement making it seem as though the flowers on her kimono were waving in a short burst of wind. She didn't respond further than that.

"…How's Shiemi-san doing?"

For a moment, the shopkeeper was silent and showed no signs of having heard him, busying herself with wrapping the small bottle of sword polish in paper to keep it from breaking. After she finished the task, though, the woman moved. With a solid, heavy _thud_, Moriyama-san leaned forward onto the counter, her elbow striking the wood harder than it probably should have. Her face showed no fear, however—only disgruntlement and resignation. "We haven't been getting along," she said, taking a drag of her _kiseru_ pipe. "Not talking lately."

"Her legs?" Yukio prompted, taking the last step so that his supply belt was pressed into the wood of the counter.

"They get worse every day." Moriyama-san sighed, smoke billowing out of her mouth. Yukio supposed that if her pipe was a western dragon, then she was the eastern—fiercely protective, but also somewhat cold. "I've taken her to several doctors, but they all say that everything seems to be in order—bones, muscles, nerves. Everything. You Exorcists are all I have left to turn to."

Yukio had been worried when he'd heard that his mission was for Shiemi-san—the sweet girl who helped her mother run the shop wasn't the kind of child that was typical for any kind of demonic possession. "Do you think it's a demon?"

He sincerely hoped not.

But Moriyama-san merely sighed again. "Well, it started after her grandmother died," she said, tapping excess ash into the tray by the black, old-fashioned bell-ended phone. "Shiemi started spending more time in the garden, started talking less about leaving and more about how she had to keep everything in shape."

_Ah._ Yukio pushed his glasses up his nose. "So there was a marked change in behavior and habit. That's not exactly…"

"Promising, I know." Her dark blue, almost indigo eyes met his, and he saw the fear in them. "I've been ignoring it, hoping that it wasn't anything that the doctors couldn't fix. I don't…I don't know what I would do if she was possessed." She looked to the side in an uncharacteristic display of insecurity.

"It's probably not as bad as you think it is," Yukio assured her, bending down so that his weight was supported on an outstretched arm. "Is she still cheerful? Does she talk about killing in any way, shape or form?"

Moriyama-san snorted, the moment of weakness gone in a moment. "She's cheerful as long as she's not really aware that I'm watching her. But I see her, in the garden—she's happiest when she has her hands dirty and is planting things, letting them grow in the ground. In fact, she's almost obsessed with the garden."

"You think that's where the demon lives? That it's possessed one of the plants?"

"It's possible." She breathed in the fumes of the burning tobacco again, and then exhaled them through her nose. "And if so, I want her out of that garden."

"Well, I don't know for sure until I can look at her," Yukio said, smiling a little. He was sure that Moriyama-san's aversion to Shiemi's time spent in the garden was a very large part of their arguments. "Shall we?"

Moriyama-san nodded and got up, pushing down hard on her kimono-draped knees before standing and jerking her head towards the back door. "That's where she is," she said. "That's where she always is."

All Yukio could do is nod, push past the swing-hinged door, and hope that his expertise really, really wasn't actually needed.

* * *

><p>Shiemi had heard him before she saw him, had felt the slight tingle of electricity, like that in soil after a storm, flow through the air a split second before hearing a muffled whine and the thudding of feet against hard ground. She looked up from where she was planting her petunias and saw him, the goofy looking boy in a uniform similar to what Yukio-sensei wore a couple years ago.<p>

He was dancing around in a circle, hand bright red and muttering something under his breath. There were thin, barely noticeable tendrils of smoke rising from the iron gate that—that warded against demons.

For a moment, she felt a thrill of fear run through her. _Demon_, her mind screamed, _demon demon demon_! But all she could do was stare at him wide-eyed, her favorite shovel falling from her suddenly slack grasp into the freshly upturned-soil next to the newly planted petunia.

"Sssssssaaaaaagh!" The boy—her age, she supposed—finally bit out, shaking his hand out the way she did when her hands cramped up three hours into pulling weeds. "Oh you son of a bitch gate what the _hell_ kind of static was that?"

Shiemi pursed her lips at the swearword, but her shoulders relaxed. Silly her, assuming the worst. "Are," she began hesitantly, leaning forward a little and putting her hands on her knees. She didn't care that they were dirty—it wasn't like this was one of her nicer kimono. "Are you okay?"

His head swiveled around so fast she worried he might hurt himself more. After staring at her for a moment, he started grinning and rubbing the back of his neck. "Heh, yeah. It takes a lot more than that to bring me down!"

She smiled. He was actually really vibrant, and not at all what she thought a demon would be like. "Would you like to come in?" she offered, noting how close he was standing to the gate. He must have been looking at the garden a long time if he'd come close enough for static to happen without noticing it, and she was always happy to show people Obaa-chan's garden!

_It's your garden too,_ the spirit in the earth whispered, soft and silky like the grass under her hands. _It's my garden, your garden, your grandmother's, and we will make sure it lives_.

Her smile widened. _Of course_!

The boy had started looking at the ground, cheeks pink in embarrassment and blubbering. "I—well, I guess that—you sure you don't mind, I mean—I'd love to, I'd really love to, it's beautiful and so are—well, I—"

Her chest swelled up with joy. He'd called her garden beautiful! Mother never did that any more. This was great! "Come in, then! Don't worry, you should be fine—the static should be gone."

Shiemi hadn't felt static in a while, connected to the earth as she was. But she remembered the little sting as her hand crossed over her grandmother's, and the giggles they would both erupt into. Sometimes, she even fantasized about Yukio-sensei gardening with her, laughing as they brushed hands and stung each other. Sometimes, they even _held hands_ after that!

And then Shiemi would wake up and realize that it hadn't actually happened.

"O-okay," the other teenager said, thick black hair—like Yukio-sensei's, actually, but not at all neat—brushing the bottoms of his eyelashes. He raised his hands and slowly put them on the metal as if it would burn him, wariness in his face. Her eyes flickered down to watch the gate under his hand. But there was no shock, no smoke, and Shiemi let out the breath she'd been holding without realizing it.

Definitely not a demon, at least!

"See?" she said, smiling even wider. "It didn't hurt, did it?"

He grinned back at her, nerves visible in the set of his jaw. "Nope!" He then pushed on the gate, and it slid open, hinges groaning and squealing a little. Shiemi looked at the stranger again, eyes wide in awe. That gate was _heavy_! Even before her legs stopped working, it took her a lot of effort to push it open and closed, and this guy was just opening it like it was nothing!

_He must be an exorcist, _she thought. _Maybe he knows Yukio-sensei?_

"Are you an exorcist?" She asked as he stepped beyond the reach of the gate. There was a quick flash of a grin on his face before he turned around, his back a little tense.

He closed the gate with the same hand as he'd opened it with, slow and sure and constant, and didn't take his hand off for a moment. "I'm training, yeah," he said, his back still to her. "Hey, what kind of flowers are you planting?"

Shiemi looked down and smiled at the purple-yellow-white pansies on the tray next to her. She looked back up at the boy standing in front of the demon-warded gate, his hands held behind him, fingers locked as he stretched his back. "They're pansies! Specifically, they're pansies from the _viola tricolor_ family. Aren't they pretty?" Her tongue tripped a little over the foreign words.

The boy blinked at her. "_Bi-o-ra_? What's that?"

She giggled, holding a dirty hand up to her mouth. "_Sanshikisumire_. Pansies are bred specifically for gardens!"

He came closer—cautiously, hands shoved into his pockets. Upon crouching, slouched over like her mother always said hooligans did, he squinted at the flowers. "I never knew they were called that," he said in a mumble.

"Mm!" she agreed, finding the hand shovel, leaning forward onto her hands and starting to dig another hole in the grass next to its seedmate. "Most people don't."

Shiemi looked sideways at him. His eyebrows were furrowed, and there was a crease between them that worried her. He seemed really strained, stressed. She turned away and pursed her lips in thought as she dug at the soil.

What did she do, Shiemi asked herself, carefully placing a shovelful of dirt on the grass beside the hole, whenever she was stressed? She rarely got that way, so she didn't really know how to help.

_You're always with me_, the earth explained in a whisper. _You always have your hands filled with life. That's why you're not worried._

Shiemi brightened up. That was it! She turned her face towards the boy's as her hands gently grasped the base of the closest pansy. "You want to help?"

His blue eyes—a little darker than Yukio's, which were more turquoise than anything—widened in surprise. "You would—you'd let me _help_?"

"Why not?"

He grinned at that, big and toothy and not at all like Yukio's small, reserved smiles and kind eyes, but somehow it didn't scare her. "I—sure!"

She could feel her own spirits lift. "Great! Then when we're done here, we can prepare the ground in front of the gates!"

"How do you do that?" He cocked his head at her, watching how she patted the soil back around the plant, making sure there was no air trapped in the ground.

She wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand and smiled at him before offering him the shovel, handle first. "First, you plant the rest, and I'll get the manure."

Insecurity and nervousness overtook his features again, and he began blubbering in earnest. "Eh—but I don't know how—I mean, just like I don't—"

"Here," She said, pressing his left hand around the wooden shaft of the tool, its contours worn smooth by her calloused palms. "Just push it into the ground—it's really soft, we had a bit of rain overnight—and then lever it down to get the dirt up." His hand was really warm against hers, and she flushed at the thought of Yukio's being as warm.

The earth yielded easily against the combined force of their weight, but she thought that the boy wasn't really pushing as much as he was staring dumbly down at the ground like he couldn't believe what was happening.

"And then," she continued, face a little hot, "you pull it up and put the soil on the side of the hole, like this." Shiemi dragged the vowels in the word 'like' as she lifted the shovel and tipped the earth off of the old metal.

"Make the hole about the size of your palm around and the length of your hand," she paused to consider the other boy's hands, "up to your knuckles."

"Okay," he muttered, seeming a bit starstruck.

Shiemi smiled and, once they were done making the hole the right size, she picked up one of the flowers off the tray and settled back so that her weight was on her knees. She could hardly feel them these days, and she liked the connection to the soil, so she never used a gardening mat. "Now you put the flower in the ground. Give me your hands?"

The shovel fell limply from the boy's fingers, and he held his left hand out, his eyes a little dazed. Shiemi giggled.

"Silly, you need both hands—that way, the flower won't fall and get bent leaves or stems!"

He glanced at her and then back to the other side, and she could see his shoulders tense up again. No! That wasn't supposed to happen, he was supposed to calm down!

"I mean," she backtracked, waving her hands in front of her and hoping that the action would magically erase her words, "you don't _have_ to have both hands, it's just safer for the flowers with both—I mean, you're okay with one, you have bigger hands than me, it's probably perfectly fine!"

The boy turned his head to face her so fast she could swear that he should have snapped his neck. "Oh, no, no it's okay, really!" he waved his hand in tandem to her wildly gesticulating ones. "It's just—I—yeah, I just figured that I have one hand out and that should be enough, right, coz I know nothing about gardening or plants or anything so I should probably use two and, well, hahaha…"

Before she could say anything else, he pulled his right hand out of his pocket and slid it under hers, his left hand joining it so that he could take the plant from Shiemi without letting it fall. His hands were almost feverishly hot, but one look at his flushed, embarrassed face had Shiemi casting away any concerns that it was something awful.

"Okay!" She agreed, relieved that he was okay with her blunder. Shiemi let the flower fall into his hands, gingerly pulling hers up and around the bottom of the bundle of roots and soil.

"What now?" He asked, eyeing the plant with no little trepidation. "I just…put it in the hole, right?"

Shiemi nodded her head once, her eyes crinkling up into another smile. "Mm! And then put the rest of the dirt back in—make sure to press it down firmly! Air bubbles under the soil are bad."

The other boy tilted his head at her, hands poised to fill the dirt in. "Why?"

"The ground becomes uneven and unstable," she said, leaning forward on her hands and knees to help push the soil back. "So when you're walking around on it, or putting pressure on the grass, it collapses and creates a sinkhole. It's not good for you, or the plant."

He made a noise of understanding, somewhere between an 'aaah' and a 'hmm'. His hands pushed down on the soil a bit more firmly, and he was biting his lip a little, the corner sucked into his mouth so that he could reach it with his teeth.

Shiemi pushed herself back up into a kneeling position. "You think you can handle it here?"

"Heh, yeah!" he reached back and almost rubbed the back of his head, but aborted the motion as though he'd just remembered that dirt was filling the creases in his skin. "There're only six left, and it seems simple 'nuff!"

She smiled back at him. "Okay! I'll go get the manure, and we can start filling in the area in front of the gate!"

He grinned back and picked up the shovel with a spark of determination in his eyes. As he slid the metal into the earth, Shiemi nodded to herself and started off towards the shed, which was a little ways away.

Crawling wasn't too bad, and the kimono didn't hinder her movements any more than it did when she could still stand. She liked the feel of grass on the palms of her hands, liked feeling the connection between herself and the earth spirit.

She had hauled two buckets out of the shed (which were a convenient five meters from the gate) and begun lugging one of them over on her knees to the area in front of the gate when she heard the other boy call out, "Hey, hey, you all right?"

Looking over, Shiemi saw the concern written around his eyes and in the set of his feet, crouched in such a way that he could get up at a moment's notice. The flowers had all been planted—a bit haphazardly, but decent for a first try. She smiled. "Yes, I'm fine!"

The sudden frown on his face surprised her, and he stood up, arms crossed across his chest. "You wouldn't be crawling if everything was okay."

"My…" Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her feet, smudged with dirt and grass. She knew that if she reached out and touched them, she would not feel the pressure of her fingertips. "They don't work anymore, is all."

With a 'humph' of disapproval, the boy came over, feet stomping on the grass a little too hard. Once he stood in front of her, he extended his arm and said, "Gimme."

Shiemi blinked. "What?"

His scowl deepened, if at all possible. "Gimme the bucket of that nasty awful smelling stuff. I'll carry it."

"It's really not all that difficult," she said, but lifted the manure up so that he could grip the handle on it. Her arms strained to lift the weight above her shoulders, but he pulled it from her grasp like it weighed nothing.

"Where to?" he asked instead, eyes watering a little as his face lost a bit of the scowl in the face of the stench of dung.

Shiemi pointed. "Where the trench by the gates is—just put them down, I can handle the distribution of the manure myself."

"That explains the stench," the boy muttered, wrinkling his nose and looking like he was breathing as little as he possibly could as he turned to take the dung where it needed to go. Shiemi watched him, a little startled and confused by his vehement conquest of her chores, and then turned back around to retrieve the other bucket by the shed's closed door.

She hadn't gone but maybe a meter at most when the boy let out a strangled noise and she felt him walk over to her, the vibrations pounding through the earth and up through her hands. Looking over her shoulder, she saw his arms moving stiffly at his sides, eyes narrowed and promising broken things in the future.

A thrill of fear went down her chest.

He stomped up right next to her. "There another one?"

She nodded, breath caught in her throat.

For a moment, he looked down at her silently, and then glanced back up at where the second bucket of manure was. His expression relaxed a little as he caught her eyes with his again. "You don't get lots done, do you?"

Shiemi pursed her lips and looked to the side, away from the boy's thoughtful face. "No, not really," she said, and then turned her head to grin at him over her shoulder. "My legs are pretty useless, yeah, but that's okay! I still get to garden, I can still move and take care of it!"

He was silent a while longer, and then nodded, seemingly to himself. "All right," he said, and crouched down next to her. Before she could react, he wrapped his right arm over her back and then under her stomach, his elbow on her right side, and stood.

As Shiemi squeaked in surprise at suddenly being higher above the ground than she was used to, the boy had already started moving forward, steps solid. The movements caused her to sway a little, and she looked up at him, hair halfway in her face and cheeks undoubtedly a bright, bright red. "What—what are you doing?" she half cried, hands clenched together at her chest and legs dangling limply behind her.

"Well, I can move good 'nuff for both of us, and the sooner you get this done the sooner you can do other things, right?"

She felt the words in her throat, but her mouth couldn't find the way to say them, so she stared up at him in silent wonder. His arm was warm around her, and he moved smoothly enough that she wasn't jostled. It was almost freeing, being up above the earth.

He wasn't looking at her as he bent down into a crouch to get a good grasp on the bucket with his left hand. "I mean," he said, and oh, oh, his face was as red as hers felt, "you got lots to do here. And you don't have any help. So if," he blushed even deeper as he stood, "if I'm your legs, just for today, then you can get lots more done than if I wasn't, right?"

She kept staring at his face as he turned around, slowly and carefully so that she wouldn't hit the shed or anything like that, and felt wonder at his very being astound her. "Thank you," she said, soft and quiet as the morning sun peering above the line of the horizon and breathing life onto the world. "This…this garden is very important to me."

He glanced down at her, his feet almost gliding across the grass. "Why?"

"It belonged to my grandmother," she said, flicking her gaze down at the ground, watching it pass in the short steps the boy was taking. "She taught me almost everything I know, and I loved her as much as she loved this garden."

"Loved?"

"She died in an accident last winter and went on to the Garden of Amahara. I hope." She didn't feel her toes when they touched the grass, but as her companion crouched down slowly, her knees hit the ground and she felt almost drained.

"I don't understand," the boy said, flopping down next to her and leaning back on his hands. "How can somebody go somewhere when they're dead? And what's this Amahara place anyways?"

The feeling of exhaustion fled her as she giggled, pushing herself up into a kneeling position. "No, she didn't go herself—her soul did. And the Garden of Amahara is…um…where God has gathered all the world's plants! They say that it actually exists, and that if you go there, you can see every plant there is!"

He cocked his head at her, a smile on his face. "Sounds like a cool place! Why doncha go there?"

"Silly, it's really just a myth. Besides," she looked down at her legs, a little sad but resigned to not walk again, "with my legs…"

"We just talked about this!" She turned her head to see the boy frowning at her, eyebrows furrowed behind his messy, long bangs. "If you need to go somewhere, I can help! It makes more sense that way. Don't just take it all on yourself and not rely on others, baka."

She watched him, eyes wide again for what felt like the thousandth time in the last ten minutes. "You would really do that?"

"You'd want to look for it, right?" He looked away from her, his cheeks bright red and fiddling with his fingers in his lap. "You seem pretty into this gardening stuff. If you could see all those things, you would, wouldn't you?"

Shiemi stared at his eyes, which flicked back at her every once in a while, and felt for the first time that she might actually have a friend to rely on. "You're a really nice guy," she said, and didn't actually feel the need to gather any courage for her next words. "What's your name?"

His head shot around to regard her, eyes really wide for a guy. "Wha—uh—Okumura Rin."

She held out a hand to her friend—Rin, the one who promised to be her legs when she needed them—and smiled. "I'm Moriyama Shiemi! It's nice to meet you. Friends?"

With a blush and a grin of joy stretching his lips and lighting up his eyes, Rin slowly lifted his right hand and grasped hers with it—both thumbs on top, a proper business handshake like her mother had taught her. "Friends."

His hand was burned, she noticed, and covered in dirt and grime from planting the pansies. The wound was in the place where he touched the gate, and the gate was warded against demons, so logic told her that he was a demon. But he had listened to her, had treated her plants and her dreams with care and hadn't acted at all ornery or evil. It didn't matter if he was. A demon, that is.

As he rubbed the back of his head and laughed, eyes crinkling up into little creases, she smiled back. He was her friend.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Hope this worked for you guys-my writing style has changed a lot over the last couple years, and it was a bit hard at first to reconcile the two.

On another note, I know for sure that you guys won't have to wait another two years for the next chapter! In fact, I'm planning on just **two weeks**, seeing as Chapter 12 is ready to go!

Few bits of dialogue from the next chapter! Guess who said what :)

_"Bravo, Rin. Excellently deduced."_

_"For a moment, I thought that you'd gone off the deep end."_

_"Fear is the gate to doubt. Fear is the gate to anger. Fear is the gate to possession..."_


	12. Entschuldigungen

**A/N:**

So, as promised, here we are! Chapter 13 is about 5,000 words in, so I'll see about getting it up about three weeks from now (at the earliest). Not only does that ensure that I start on Chapter 14, but it ensures I have enough time to _finish_ chapter 13. Check my profile for updates on the situation-I'll be letting you guys know when I reach certain landmarks.

To everybody who reviewed, thank you. I was overwhelmed by the positive feedback, and how any negative feedback was constructive to me. Sorry that I didn't reply to everybody (and the PM chains that withered and died overnight), I got a little busy and also a little lazy (I admit it) with communicating with others.

Without further Ado, here you go!

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve: <em><span>Entschuldigungen<span>_

(Apologies)

.

For a moment, all was right in the world. A pretty girl (who looked like a girl and didn't at all resemble Angelina-cha—that dirty lying spying spy of a spy who confused people too much) wanted to be his friend, hadn't realized that he had demonic heritage, and had let him help her. She smelled nice (nicer than Angelina) and was really pretty (pale blonde hair, cute face not at _all_ like _Mr. I'm Going To Crossdress and Like It_). So of course their moment of budding friendship had to be ruined.

"Rin!"

He almost jumped up and turned to face Yukio, but aborted the movement and tilted his head back as Shiemi (what a pretty name) shifted to face the new voice. "Heya!"

An upside-down image of Yukio walking down the steps, a fat woman dressed similar to Shiemi beside him, greeted Rin. "What on _earth_ are you doing over there? I thought I told you to stay!"

Rin stuck his tongue out at his brother. "You told me not to follow you."

"Yuki-chan!" Shiemi cried, and Rin's eyes widened and he fell onto his back, barely managing to lift his head in time to avoid what was probably a lot of neck damage and a heart attack for Fujimoto.

He scrambled to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at his brother. "She _knows_ you?"

Yukio, in a situation where they weren't around other people, would have rolled his eyes at Rin. Instead, he smiled that passive, fake nice-guy smile and said, "Yes. I come here all the time, and she's the owner's daughter, so it is of course normal that we would have crossed paths." He looked away from Rin and down at Shiemi. "Hello, Shiemi-san."

She looked between the two of them, swiveling her head back and forth with such confusion in her eyes that Rin glared at Yukio and told him _just get on with it already_ with his eyebrows.

Whoever said that twins don't have telepathy wasn't right all the time, because Yukio simply smiled a little wider as the older, bigger lady joined him. "Shiemi-san, meet Rin, my older twin brother."

With large eyes, the blonde looked at Rin, and then back at Yukio. "But…but you act so much _older_!"

"Tch!" Rin looked down at the ground and stabbed his foot at the earth angrily.

"Yes, I act the part of the big brother in reality, but nii-san is technically the elder brother."

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's just training to be an Esquire," the smarmy mole-infested git continued, sending that charming smile that the girls liked for some odd reason at Shiemi, "and he's following me around today to see what Exorcists usually do on the job."

Shiemi made a noise of understanding, an 'aaah' that had Rin straightening his shoulders and bristling.

"Hey, what's with the ignoring me thing?"

"Following you around?"

Rin might have thought that he really had ceased to exist, except for the positively evil glint in Yukio's eyes as he glanced at Rin and then back at Shiemi. The elder Okumura opened his mouth to call his brother out on it, but the fat lady next to him beat him to the punch.

"Shiemi," she said, steel in her voice, "Let Okumura-sensei look at your legs."

Now that he looked at her closer, he could see that the steel in her voice extended down her spine and settled in the fists she'd placed on her hips. Although they looked very different, Rin was abruptly reminded of his Da—Fujimoto, of Fujimoto.

"Mom!" Shiemi cried, eyebrows slanted in annoyance, "I haven't had anything to do with any kind of demons!"

Yukio's own eyes narrowed in the brief instance that mother and daughter had a short showdown with their eyes, but the expression was blank and kind the moment Shiemi diverted her attention back to Yukio. Rin had to admit that Yukio was really, really good at the whole 'mask emotion' thing.

"Calm down, Shiemi-san," his brother said, kneeling down in front of her. "Let's just check."

"I really am being ignored," Rin muttered without heat. If the reason Shiemi (who was totally a girl, he knew it this time, so take _that_ Yukio and Fujimoto) couldn't walk was because of a demon, then things were serious.

Shiemi's mom looked at him sharply, but didn't say anything—Rin wasn't really paying too much attention to her. He was too concerned with the hesitance on Shiemi's face, on the disbelief that anything was demonically wrong with her.

He could almost relate.

"After all, if I don't find anything, then there's no problem, right? It won't take long, I promise."

Rin knew Shiemi would concede about five seconds before she actually nodded, simply because even _he_ gave into that look of genuine worry. Right now it was veiled by simple kindness, but only barely.

"Okay," she said, looking down with her cheeks as red as they were when Rin picked her up just moments ago.

Yukio smiled, his eyes thin, almost straight lines in his face. "Thank you very much."

That was his worried-but-not-going-to-show-it-coz-I'm-a-professional face, and one that Rin didn't like very much. That smile gave him shivers. "Hey," he piped up as he crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet, "Whatta 'bout me?"

"What about you?" Yukio smirked, but the worry was dampened a little, so Rin could stand the barely-there insult. "Just stand there and watch."

_Not like I could do much now anyways_, Rin thought to himself as he watched Yukio—ever so cautious and polite—murmur an apology as he slid his hand up Shiemi's leg in a clinical manner.

Rin couldn't not widen his eyes in surprise at the thick, bulging root-like protrusions running up from Shiemi's feet to the tops of her calves. The very tips of these long bumps were tickling the tops of her knees.

From glancing at Yukio's suddenly stone-stoic face and by Rin's own suddenly somewhat upset gut, this was a Very Not Good Thing.

"Roots," Yukio murmured as he set down Shiemi's leg. "It's a Masshou. Definitely the work of a demon."

Rin stood from his crouch and frowned at the horrified expression Shiemi was making. "B-but, I…"

Behind Yukio, Shiemi's mom's face echoed her daughter, but with much more fear in the creases around her eyes. "So she's being—"

"No," Yukio said, frowning, glasses glinting in the light and obscuring his eyes. "No, she's not being possessed. The demon involved isn't very strong."

As his brother suddenly lifted his head and caught Rin's eye, the elder Okumura felt a thrill of foreboding.

"Not very strong at all…Nii-san, you're supposed to be observing me—what do you think the creature that did this might be?"

_Oh shit shit shit shit shit_, Rin thought, and he felt himself start sweating at the hairline. "Um…that is, I mean—well, it," he looked down at Shiemi's kimono-covered legs and had a sudden flash of inspiration. "It's plant based!"

Yukio clapped slowly. "Bravo, Rin. Excellently deduced. Can you name me one demon that could have done this?"

"…" Rin bit his lip and looked to the side. No, no he couldn't.

"Seeing as my student does not seem to remember the answer," Yukio's coat rustled, presumably as he turned to look at Shiemi's mother, "I will have to. Currently, I am hypothesizing that a low-level demon such as a Dekalp, a Greenman, or an Ent must have possessed a plant and reached into Shiemi-san through the soil and her feet to feed off of some kind of inner turmoil."

"That means…" Rin looked back at Yukio, eyes narrowed. "That means it's in the garden still, right?"

Yukio nodded just as slowly as he'd clapped earlier, his eyes stern and serious. He turned his head to regard the blonde girl beside him. "Shiemi-san…demons usually only find their way into humans' hearts through conversation. You must have spoken to the demon at some point."

Shiemi's face looked paler than usual, and Rin figured that they'd hit a chord.

"Can you remember any time that could have happened?" Yukio asked, maintaining eye contact with Shiemi. "You can tell me. I promise."

"I…" Shiemi said, slowly, glancing at Rin and then back at Yukio before her voice gained strength. "I haven't talked to any dem—"

"Shiemi, you need to leave this garden _now_!"

Rin's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the angry, frantic face of Shiemi's mother. There was a tremor in her voice, a tremor so faint that if Rin hadn't heard it from Fujimoto just thirty minutes earlier, he never would have noticed it.

"Your grandmother," she continued, voice loud, strong, "she loved this place with all of her heart, yes, but this damned garden isn't worth your health!"

"Damned…garden?" Shiemi asked in disbelief before she pushed off the ground and strained to pull herself as high as she could. "This, this garden was Obaa-chan's greatest treasure! I _hate_ you, I _hate _you! I—"

All of a sudden, Shiemi's eyes grew hazy, then rolled up into the back of her head as she collapsed sideways onto the ground. Rin sidestepped away to let her fall down, stared down at her unconscious face, and could only think that faces should get less upset in sleep.

He then thought about what Yukio said about the demon accessing Shiemi through the ground and all but snatched her off of the grass despite her mother's scandalized shout.

"What do you think you're doing, young man?"

"You heard what Yuki said earlier," he said, glancing down at the girl in his arms and fighting back the blush at the thought and feel of it. There were issues more important than indulging crushes at the time. "The demon, whatever it is, is touching her through the ground—shouldn't we be keeping her off it, then?"

Yukio sighed, but stood as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "You have a point, Rin. As awful as his book sense is," he said to Shiemi's mom, "his intuition is proving to be spot-on."

_It's been doing that for a while,_ Rin thought, but said nothing other than, "You have a bed for her to sleep in?"

Shiemi's mother was looking at him differently as she nodded. "There's the western-style she's been sleeping on in the shed."

Rin looked at the little shack that Shiemi had gotten her buckets of gross manure from. "That thing?"

"Hah," Shiemi's mother smirked at Yukio as if saying _he really is a bit slow, isn't he_, and then jerked her head in the other direction. "No. She lives in the two-story shed over there."

"I knew that," Rin muttered, pouting a little as he shifted the girl's weight in his arms. Damn, she was heavier than she looked.

Shiemi's mom led the way to the shed, Rin in the middle Yukio and not far behind. As soon as the thick double wooden doors were opened, Rin climbed up the ramp, over the steps, and stood on the far side of the bed. Shiemi's mother pulled the covers back just enough so that Rin could place Shiemi on the mattress cover. He braced her neck with his left hand and her spine with his right as soon as her butt was on the bed and lowered her down.

Her hair wasn't the silkiest, no, but it was also sort of soft and thick and when he pulled his hand from between her and the pillows, he caught the subtle scent of earth after just being rained on. It was nice, Rin thought, a slight blush on his cheeks as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, nodded to Shiemi's old woman, and respectfully exited the building. Much nicer than Angeli—that stupid crossdressing guy's.

And then he remembered the stupid roots under her skin, and he clenched his fists.

"She looked fine," Yukio began, hand brushing against Rin's—_I'm here,_ it said, _I'm here and you did well and she'll be fine_, and it had Rin wondering just how transparent he was, actually, "but she's actually having a large amount of energy being drained away through her legs. If we don't drive the demon off, her life is in danger."

_But we can,_ Rin thought, viciously. _And we will_. They may have only met less than an hour ago, but he was more than willing to help save her. That's just how he was about people.

He protected them.

"Isn't it weird," the older woman said, head twisted away from Rin to look at Shiemi, "how she sleeps in here, of all places?"

Rin appraised the room. It had obviously been used as a toolshed in the past, but it seemed cozy and a little bit bigger than the room he and Yukio had slept in at the Monastery. _Definitely bigger than the closet the three of us share at the Academy_, he thought, frowning.

"Her grandmother lived in this storehouse," Shiemi's mom continued, and Rin got the sudden feeling that he'd been following the wrong train of thought. "After her death, Shiemi moved in here, started spending all of her time either in this shed or in the garden. It's almost like she's obsessed with it!"

"Did she start losing the feeling in her legs about then?" Yukio asked.

The woman nodded as she closed the door. "Just like her grandmother."

They stood there for a while, Rin hanging back to the side of the ramp as they stared at the paint-chipped shed door in silence.

The eldest turned around suddenly, utter despair and guilt and self-hatred written in the lines on her face so boldly that Rin could do nothing more than avert his eyes and stay silent. She brushed by him—not quickly, but with a weight to her step that was made of more than just her body mass. Yukio followed, glancing at Rin with a _follow us_ in his eyes, but Rin was struck silent and still by the utter sorrow in the woman's body.

He'd seen that before. Somewhere.

"Why?" He heard her ask, and Rin imagined that her eyes were downcast even as Yukio caught up to her and tread at her side. "I try to bring it up. I try to ask her, but somehow, we always end up fighting. I'm not a very good mother."

They kept walking down the path, and Rin cocked his head. It sounded like material was being rubbed together behind the thick oak doors, and if it was loud enough that he could hear it then—nightmare.

He stalked up the ramp and opened one of the two doors again. Shiemi's eyes were wide open, her right hand raised above her head as if trying to protect herself from something. She bent over, lifted a fist to her forehead, and clenched the fabric over her chest.

"You okay?" He heard himself ask.

Her hands both fell to the sheets abruptly. "Rin?"

"Hey." Rin looked at her, and all he could see was her mother's sorrow-lined guilt-shadowed face. "Your mom's worried 'boutcha."

Anger and betrayal flashed across her face and furrowed her eyebrows. "Wha—Why do you have to be like that? It's mother who's wrong! She's the one being horrible, how could you betray me like this!"

Her body leaned forward, and the desperation in her eyes was heartbreaking. "I decided I could protect my Grandmother's garden!" she screamed, and Rin narrowed his eyes in anger.

_At the cost of losing everybody and everything you ever loved? At the cost of losing yourself to a demon?_ Well, if she wouldn't take action, if she wouldn't see the fault lines and try to fix them, then he would. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked over to the nearest collection of flowers. Rin held his hand over the sweatband on his left wrist and concentrated.

_Out_, he commanded, and the hilt of Tsunagiri rose into his grasp with a slight tug at his wrist, the blade flickering a subtle blue around the runes allowing his flames to pass through the folded metal. It was all too easy to settle his feet into the proper stance, grip the end of the hilt with his other hand, and bring it crashing down through bright green stalks and vibrant-colored petals.

It was hard to keep the flames from erupting down the edge of Tsunagiri, but the weight of the Kurikara pendant against his collarbone stopped him short.

"What are you doing?"

Rin lifted the sword again and sliced through a few more terracotta pots, then reached down with his hand and yanked up a viney, red-colored flower. It was relieving, he thought, just to let it all out. He hadn't actually handled Tsunagiri like this for days, too concerned with lying low and unable to pull it out in the dorm shared with another person not privy to this (or any) secret of his.

"Stop that!" Behind him, there was a loud whump, and the sound of something large being dragged across wooden floors, but he only settled for a one-handed thrust and upper-cut to the diagonal left that made the grass rather lopsided.

There was a sudden jerk on his pant leg, and he looked down to Shiemi's face, contorted in a myriad of emotions. "Stop it!"

The lid on his silence finally blew. "What's holding you back? What's tying you down? Tell me and I'll take it _out_!" He roared, sword edge pointed reflexively away from Shiemi.

Her eyes were so wide and startled, so guilty as she spoke with a tremble in her voice and in her hands. "If…If I just…If I'd come home earlier, if I hadn't stayed out so late, if I'd covered the trellis, Obaa-chan wouldn't have died!"

Suddenly, Rin started to understand a bit more.

"It's my fault!" Shiemi started bawling, fingers digging into the material of his school jacket. "It's all my fault!"

He crouched down slowly, right hand still wrapped around the hilt. "Hey," he said, low, "hey."

"That's why!" She told him, thick through the tears and the snot. "That's why I have to protect her garden!"

_Duty_, Rin thought. _Duty to family. Protection of them, protection of their memory_. He looked down into her watery green eyes, and he realized that they really weren't that different. After all, he would give his life for Yukio, give his life for Shura-sensei, give his life for—_for Dad_, he thought, and had a revelation.

Shiemi and her mother didn't get along. Shiemi felt betrayed, and her mother was just trying to protect her. _Just like me_, Rin realized. _Just like me_.

"If," he said, gripping her shoulder with his left hand, "if you want to do that, then don't make your old lady worry like this! If you can't do that, then just give up."

Her eyes widened impossibly far, and he brought their faces close to get his point across. Yukio, he knew, would snark about personal bubbles but personal bubbles were the least of Shiemi's worries. _Of both our worries_.

"I think that what you _really_ want to do is go find the Garden of Amahara!" At the uncertainty in her eyes, which flicked from one of his to the other, he spoke a little softer. "I get the impression that your granny wouldn't tell you _not_ to go."

She was trembling under his palm, Rin realized, and she started hiccupping and crying again. "N…No," she said, rubbing at her eyes with the edge of her hands, "she wouldn't."

For a moment, Rin thought that the crying would die down, and then she clutched his shoulders, forcing him to his knees and startling the sword out of his grip as he made sure that they didn't fall.

"She wouldn't!" She wailed, head bowed. That earth-after-rain scent wafted up Rin's nose from the crown of her hair. "I'm so stupid, so, so stupid! My legs won't even move anymore!"

"I'll tear those roots to shreds so you can!" Rin growled, eyes narrowed. "And if that doesn't work, then I'll carry you there!"

Rin had the fright of his life when Yukio spoke up behind him, smug and almost embarrassed at the same time. "Erm…sorry to interrupt your shounen-manga-typical emotional moment, but I can get rid of a little demon like that in no time."

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Shiemi hid her face in shame.

"No need for that, Shiemi-san," Yukio said, glasses glinting as he pushed them up his nose. "Mourning is perfectly normal. My point is that, with my help, you'll walk again."

She looked up at him in wonder, a little snot dripping from her nose. It was horribly disgusting but oddly endearing at the same time. "Really?"

"All I needed was for you to settle your own heart."

Her eyes got glassy and shimmery, the way that shounen heroines' got when comforted by the hero. Rin grunted at the mental comparison and frowned a little.

"Yuki-chan," she started, full of wonder and hope. Then she froze, surprise on her face and tension in the shoulder under Rin's hand.

A split-second later, the roots in her legs started to bubble and grow, stretching the skin grotesquely. Rin pulled his hand away and snatched up his sword before rocking onto the balls of his feet and springing back into a ready stance. Shiemi shrieked as she was lifted high above the ground by legs that resembled something more like tree trunks, and it was all that Rin could do to not respond to the hair-trigger instinct of _slice slash destroy_ that sang through his arms.

"Shiemi!" he cried, reminding himself that this was the girl who welcomed him into her garden, who said that they could be friends, who wanted to do nothing more than protect her family as he protected his.

It was hard when the demon was wrapped around her, face wrapped around hers, eyes set in the top petals of the pansy-flower that used Shiemi's head as the center piece. "We're going to live together for_eeeeever_," it sang, but the song was inflected all wrong and sounded oddly pitched. "Together for_eeeeever_ in the gar_deeeen_!"

Its giggle left the hairs on the back of his neck standing, and he felt a shiver go down his arms. This demon was more insane than they usually came.

"Aren't these demons more…I dunno, nice?"

Yukio frowned at his side. "Usually, Dekalp are indeed more benign. But there are always outliers."

"Told you it was plant based."

The exasperated look Yukio shot him could have shriveled cacti in one blow. "I'm going to ignore that, Nii-san. We have a bigger situation at hand."

Rin nodded and settled his gaze back on the giggling demon possessing Shiemi. "It's using her as a shield."

"Yes," Yukio nodded. "Can you help me out?

_Ohmygodfinally_!

"Your face," his brother deadpanned, and then shook his head. "Just don't pay any mind to what I say or do. Trust me?"

"Always," Rin grinned, all teeth. "No special attacks?"

Yukio sighed. "It's bad enough you're in combat at all, but this could be a little trickier than I'd like. We need to exorcise quickly."

_So only if necessary. _With a sharp nod, Rin tensed the muscles in his leg and switched Tsunagiri to his right hand, left hand over the blade in the pantomime of holding a sheath. "Ready?"

"You can't _beat_ me, real_ly_!" The Dekalp lifted its flower-hand to Shiemi's face in the sick gesture of covering a giggle. "_Be_tter give up before you try!"

Rin imagined his brother's eyes slitted in anger as the younger of the two said, "Go."

The balls of his feet dug into the ground and he shot forward, quick long steps that had him at the Dekalp's side before it could quit giggling. He got in close and slashed out with the edge of Tsunagiri, the runes flickering just a little brighter blue. It moved just a little faster than he had anticipated, though, and the bulging root-leg evaded the tip of the keen blade just by a hair.

"Tch." Rin narrowed his eyes and recovered, bringing the blade back just a bit and preparing for a leap and thrust.

"Kyahahaha! You wanna cut me up?" The Dekalp's eyes closed in a facsimile of a smile, but the edge on its voice was cruel. "Go ahead!"

Its arm blurred out, the flowers on the end reaching to strike him, but he ducked the blow easily enough. The demon really was small fry, Rin thought. Hell, he'd faced down more powerful at eight!

Granted, that was that awful night that Shura gave then the wrong key on _Samhain_, of all times, but still.

"But only if you don't mind cutting into both of us!" The demon snickered, even though it had just gotten a flower-hand-thing chopped off, and Rin started a little at the flicker of discomfort that crossed Shiemi's unconscious face.

_Shit,_ he thought again. _Shit that must have hurt_.

Suddenly, he didn't think that sending the guy with the sharp blade to distract a possessed girl was a very good idea. Doubly so when it was hard to get within striking range with the end of his hilt in order to de-possess the girl.

The Dekalp lashed out again, and Rin had to parry with the flat and strike with the spine of his blade, completely on the defensive. He grit his teeth and hoped that Yukio had an idea already, because the only reasonable way Rin himself knew to safely exorcise the demon from Shiemi was by fire.

And fire wasn't really too much of an option right now.

"This isn't gonna work too well!" He snarled, batting away another strike. "What's the plan?"

Yukio's tone was grave when he spoke. "There's no choice, then, but to shoot them both."

Rin's horror and astonishment were distracted by having to roll suddenly under the next swipe the Dekalp took at him. "Wait, _what?_" he all but screamed.

"Hah! You won't be able to go through with it!" The Dekalp's eyes widened as it let out a screeching laugh, but there was a hint of uncertainty there as well. Rin felt his fear grow as he looked at the cold, determined look on Yukio's smirking face.

"Maybe I won't," he said, pushing his glasses up with one gun-wielding hand after having loaded the gun, "or maybe…"

He shifted so that his whole body was behind the gun, even though only his hands were holding it.

"Maybe I will."

The Dekalp shot away from Rin and towards Yukio, the arm with only one flower outstretched. "Damned Exorcist!" it screamed. "You won't shoot! You won't!"

Yukio shot.

Rin's heart stopped. "_Yukio!_"

_Trust me?_ Rin remembered, but couldn't reconcile it with the actions before him. What the hell was Yukio up to? Had he finally snapped like some geniuses in _Square_ did?

A split second after the ammunition hit Shiemi's shoulder, the Dekalp screamed and disengaged, terror written in every movement of its wide, pain-ridden eyes. Rin gritted his teeth, put his shock aside, and moved forward even as Yukio shouted, "They separated! Rin!"

"You shot her!" Rin screamed, gripping Tsunagiri's hilt with both hands and pointing the sword at the earth, blade towards the demon. "What the fuck happened to trust me? What the fuck happened to 'exorcism runes on Tsunagiri'?" Never mind that it would have taken a lot of working the demon's energy down in order for Rin to get to that point.

"Just do it!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yukio run to where Shiemi was still falling from the air.

_Don't need to tell me that_. Before the Dekalp could recover, Rin sliced up at the still-falling plant-demon, steal tearing through stalk fiber and through the center of its fragile, petal face. Tsunagiri pulsed a subtle blue, and the demon disintegrated into ash, eyes still wide with surprise and pain.

Rin skidded to a stop and shifted his feet so that he was facing Yukio as soon as he stopped. He opened his mouth, enraged, to yell at his little brother, but stopped upon seeing Shiemi's blinking eyes.

"Hm?" she asked, tongue heavy, "Yuki-chan?"

Rin's jaw dropped, and a "_whuuuht?_" escaped his chest.

"Good." Yukio smiled, eyes shut into crescents. "The roots on your legs are gone, so you should be able to stand now. Would you like to try?"

She nodded, and a rustle at the corner of Rin's eye caught his attention. He looked at Shiemi's old lady before she stepped forward and hesitated. Her mouth didn't, though, and she called out, "Shiemi!"

Her voice was full of fear and frustration and joy and relief all at the same time. The resemblance to Fuj—_Dad_—was startling, even though it had happened before.

"Mom…" Shiemi said, and he saw uncertainty on her face. _Why's everybody just standing around?_ He thought, and scowled.

"Go on already!" Rin reached over and smacked the back of her head.

At Shiemi's startled yelp, Yukio scolded Rin for hitting a lady. Rin shrugged and stuck out his tongue.

"Apologize to your mom," he told Shiemi, who was rubbing the back of his head and looking at him like she couldn't believe he'd just hit her. "Otherwise…well, you might regret it later."

He caught that raised eyebrow Yukio was sending him, thank you very much, and he acknowledged that he was a bit of a hy—a hypo—somebody who said something they hadn't followed. But it was going to be fixed, he promised!

Shiemi glanced down at her feet, back up at him, and grinned a little before shuffling forward. It was a kind of nervous gait, but Rin accepted it because it was progress instead of people standing around awkwardly unable to get the apologizing over and done with. Sheesh, why linger so much in the past?

There was a sort of quiet mumble-murmur ehrm and ahm before Shiemi's mom crossed the gap and flung her arms around the teenage girl.

"Mom?" Shiemi squeaked from the almost crushing hug, and Rin snickered at the sound.

"Hush, this is touching," Yukio admonished.

As Rin watched, he smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

After a moment, Rin glanced at his brother and frowned. "What did you shoot them with, anyways?"

With a smirk, Yukio pushed the bridge of his glasses further up his nose. "Plant nutrients."

"You sure know how to scare the shit out of somebody," Rin mumbled, wrinkling up his nose. "For a moment, I thought that you'd gone off the deep end."

Any other person would have taken offense to that, but Yukio just tilted his head and smiled. "Well, if I had, I trust that you'd pull me back from it."

"Yeah," Rin said. "Same. Weird, right?"

Yukio only grinned as Shiemi and her mother cried all over each other. A heartbeat after the silence had grown comfortable, he smiled that no-tooth-but-really-stupidly-scary smile of his. "So, are you going to do that with Father?"

A bright red flush crept up Rin's neck and into his cheeks, and he snarled, "Oh, shut up you."

* * *

><p>Moriyama Shiemi-kun was really a sweet child, Fujimoto thought as he watched her chat with Rin at the end of the day's Cram School. And as far as he knew she was indeed a girl, so Rin's crush on her wasn't a sign that he had it for crossdressing men in schoolgirl outfits.<p>

Unfortunately, he mused, observing her flush and bashful glance away from Yukio packing up the materials from the lesson of the day, it seemed that she already was looking in another direction. _You poor, poor boy_, Fujimoto thought with a snicker, the grin tugging at the left side of his mouth as he leaned against the back wall of the classroom. Rin was showing a rather sad tendency towards poor luck with the fairer sex.

"I'm guessing that everything went well yesterday?" Fujimoto leaned against the wall and murmured to Yukio, who had come up to greet him.

"More or less, yes." Yukio's voice was just as soft as his, and the Paladin couldn't help but glance at him sideways.

Yukio was smiling a little, and it made Fujimoto feel warm inside to see the expression on his youngest's face. When he was on the job, Yukio rarely smiled, and it made Fujimoto feel old, as though he'd failed to protect his children's innocence.

Then Yukio's words slapped him in the face.

"…more or less?" he parroted, forehead creasing into a frown. "What do you mean by that?"

"Due to the nature of Moriyama Shiemi-san's possession," Yukio began, shoving his glasses up so that the light flashed off of them and obscured his eyes, "I needed a distraction to successfully disengage the Dekalp from her system. Nii-san served well in that capacity."

A thrill of fear ran through Fujimoto's chest. "And where was Moriyama-san?"

"I…" Yukio frowned. "I would like to say that she was nowhere around, but the truth is that she probably saw the whole encounter."

"Flames?" His breath caught in his chest.

Yukio shook his head, and the stranglehold that fear held over his lungs loosened.

"Rin was, however, handy with a sword—handier than he admittedly should have been, considering he's only in training to be an Esquire. However, she does not know how long he's been one, and thus it is possible that she's written it off."

Fujimoto hesitated, still worried. "But—"

"Moriyama-san has always supported us in the past, Father," Yukio murmured. "Let us trust her further, as she has proven herself to be trustworthy."

As much as he hated it, Yukio was right. Moriyama-san was an ally, not an enemy. _But_, a part of him whispered, _but I can't allow any risk from the system. Not with my little boys._

Looking at Yukio's serene, undoubting face, though, Fujimoto realized that his little boys had grown up somehow. They might not be ready to deal with the world alone, but they were well on their way, and Moriyama-san had always held his confidences.

"Don't be afraid, Father." Yukio was looking at his brother now, a hard determination there that threatened to take Fujimoto's breath away again. "For fear is the gate to doubt. Fear is the gate to anger. Fear is the gate to possession, and I don't think that either one of us would take well to that."

The icy hand of fear returned to grip his heart once more. _Oh God_, Fujimoto thought, looking back on his paranoia with horribly clear eyes. _Oh God, forgive me, for I nearly failed those who relied on me most_.

While it was not worrisome in small doses, extended paranoia chipped away at the soul, chipped away at the defenses in the willpower of a man. And Satan took any chance he could.

Fujimoto pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose. Moriyama-san had always been an ally, one of the few stalwarts who wouldn't flip over in the strength of changing tides of power. He could trust her, and couldn't think of a reasonable argument as to why that wasn't the case.

He might not be able to tell her about Rin's flames—not yet, not until he had strengthened this bond—but he could trust her with Rin's competence.

"You're right," he murmured, eyes seeking out his other son and watching him blush and smile. "Thank you, Yukio."

Yukio smirked. "I learned from the best."

After a heartbeat, Rin's eyes lifted to meet his, and some light entered them. He nodded subtly at Fujimoto, and then went back to talking to Shiemi-kun, his hand rubbing the back of his head.

"I believe that's my cue to leave," Yukio said, dry and amused as he pushed off the wall, arms unfolding as he did so.

"Huh?" Fujimoto's arms fell down to his sides, and he raised an eyebrow at his second son. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see," Yukio called, lifting a hand just a tidge above his shoulder as he turned away. He stopped by Shiemi and Rin and smiled at the girl before suggesting something in a low voice.

"What a brat," Fujimoto grumbled, but his heart wasn't really in it. If he said that Fujimoto Shirou would see, then the Paladin would see.

Speaking of Paladins, he had a lot of paperwork to do in the office. _And a lot of politics_, he reminded himself, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Sometimes, he rued the day he ever accepted the position.

The door to the classroom closed, the low noise echoing in the stillness. Fujimoto opened his eyes, suddenly feeling a lot more tired than before. _Back to work, I guess_, he thought, and then stopped a step after he started to move.

Rin was leaning on the door, playing with his fingers and staring up at the ceiling like it was particularly interesting. He looked, Fujimoto realized with a pang¸ remarkably like and remarkably different from the little boy who would try to finagle training for fifteen minutes longer than he really should be training.

"Rin?" he asked, quiet and probing his son's mood. Sometimes, Rin forgot that he was mad at him, but at other times it came back with a vengeance and cause Fujimoto to hurt with the guilt.

"…'Sup, old man?"

Fujimoto relaxed. It seemed as though it was one of the better days, then. "I'm doing all right. Was there something you needed?"

Rin rolled his eyes. "_Was there something you needed_," he mocked in an oddly high-pitched parody of Fujimoto's voice. "Geez! Since when does a son need a reason to see his father?"

Fujimoto only grinned tiredly in response, and Rin's mood fell a little. He could see it in the slight droop of his shoulders, the dropping of the corner of his mouth.

"So…" Rin started again, awkward and shuffling his feet, "um, I learned something yesterday."

"What did you learn?" Really, as much as he loved his son, as much as he didn't mind spending time with him, Fujimoto did have work to do. The only thing stopping him from leaving was the broken relationship he needed to mend.

Rin pursed his lips. "Hey. Quit thinking about work, I'm trying to tell you some—" He paused, seemed to consider something, and nodded after a moment. "You know what? I've always been told I'm better at showing, so I may as well do that."

_What is he doing now?_ Fujimoto thought as Rin began to advance, his strides long enough (despite his short height) to eat up the distance between them in seconds. Fujimoto waited, standing quietly and waiting for Rin to show him whatever it was he had in mind.

Strong hands gripped his shoulders and pulled him forward into a tight, bone-jarring hug.

"Shiemi nearly got taken away from her mom yesterday," Rin said, talking into Fujimoto's neck. "They'd been arguing about stupid stuff and not really working to make things better, yanno. And I thought, hey, that's kinda like me and…"

Fujimoto looked down and saw how red the tips of Rin's ears were, but didn't comment on it. It was a struggle to breathe, let alone talk.

"Well, you get it. So, I thought that if somethin' happened and I left or you left and we still had this stupid stupid guilt trip and stuff between us when that happened, then I'd be really really guilty and unhappy myself and start wishin' that I actually, yanno, did somethin' about it 'coz let's be honest, you are just as stupid as I am sometimes, and I know that 'coz Yukio told me and Yukio's smarter than both of us combined now that he's all grown up and stuff."

"Rin," Fujimoto wheezed. "Rin, Rin, too tight."

The arms around him loosened immediately, and Rin's concerned, blushing face was looking up at his. "You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Fujimoto took a few moments to take his likely bruised ribs into account and regain his breath before lifting one of his arms and dragging Rin back into an embrace. "Come here, kid," he said, and then rubbed his knuckles into Rin's scalp.

"Ow! Ow ow ow ow stop it!" Rin protested, pushing against Fujimoto but not really putting anything into it—if he had been trying, Fujimoto knew that he'd be across the room by now. "I was trying to apologize, what's this for?"

"It means," Fujimoto said, ruffling Rin's hair now instead of giving him a noogie, "that I accept that apology, no matter how long winded it was."

Rin looked up at him, peering through the mess of his bangs. "So, we good now?"

Fujimoto grinned. "Yeah, we're good. I—sorry I didn't really reach out earlier. Wasn't sure how you would take it."

"Well," Rin shrugged, "I wasn't really helping either. I guess that makes it even, right?"

"I'd say it does," Fujimoto said, letting Rin out of the hold.

They stood together in silence, Rin observing the ceilings and Fujimoto examining the door. He really did need to get that paperwork done, but…

"Did you want to get dinner sometime?" Rin whipped his head up to look at Fujimoto, but Shirou only grinned and shook his head. "Not today. I do have to get some stuff done, and you have homework, so I was thinking sometime over the weekend. We can get a bite to eat, or we can take Yukio with—your pick."

Rin had little stars in his eyes, eerily reminiscent of a shoujo manga. "S-Sukiyaki?" he asked, voice a little breathy as though he was confessing to his high-school crush.

Fujimoto shuddered as his brain connected that phrase to a certain cross-dressing First-class Arthur. _Never again_, he swore to himself, _never will I think of that again_. "Sure," he said, "but only this time. Sukiyaki's expensive, and I may be the Paladin, but it's not the best-paying position in the world, you know."

Rin stuck out his tongue. "You're just cheap. Pinky-promise on Sukiyaki this weekend?"

"Yeah, yeah," Fujimoto said, rolling his eyes. "Sukiyaki it is."

Letting out a whoop, Rin leapt up and thrust his fists into the air, dancing in a circle as he chanted the name of his favorite dish over and over. The sight made chuckles blossom and erupt out of his chest, and Fujimoto thought for a moment that maybe, maybe everything was starting to look just a little better.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Remember, check back around July 20th-and, if you get impatient, my profile page. See you in a while!


	13. Zweifel im Herzen

**A/N:** Well here we go, as promised! There's not much to say here except that I hope you like it, and that it was a lot of fun to write!

* * *

><p>Chapter Thirteen: <em><span>Zweifel im Herzen<span>_

(Doubt in the Heart)

.

He looked down at the paper in his sweating hand, and then back up at the odd man in front of him. "Uh…do you have any elevators?"

The Headmaster of True Cross Academy grinned and waved a hand in dismissal. "Of course we do, of course we do!" The purple gloves caught Hisoragi Takumi's eye for probably the tenth time, even against the extravagance of the rest of the…man's?...outfit.

"And where did my luggage go?"

Johannes Faust grinned at him, both eyes and teeth too sharp for comfort. Hisoragi Takumi didn't feel very safe around the guy, and was having third and fourth thoughts about following that priest's advice. "Already taken care of! I would never let a cripple carry his own belongings."

_Yet he let a cripple climb…fuck, how many stairs was that?_

Faust continued despite Takumi's incredulous look. "Now, I hear that you're interested in a certain Cram School of ours?"

The man behind the desk—now that he thought about it, Faust's ears were also too pointed for a human—fit his fingers together and leaned his chin on them. "Why," he asked, smooth and silky and with a curl to his lips that couldn't be anything other than sly, "should I let you in?"

Takumi's mouth dropped open. "Wait, what d'you mean by that? That Priest-dude—Fujimato or whatever—said that if I wanted in, I should talk to you!"

"And that is what we are doing!" Faust grinned, the ridiculous hat—like Lincoln's, Takumi remembered—casting ominous shadows over his eyes. "Why should I let you in?"

"Because…" Takumi stammered, leg aching, wishing he could just sit down but not wanting to acknowledge the weakness (especially not in front of this…this predator in man's skin). "I want to make sure I'm…that I'm prepared."

Faust hummed a little and leaned back in his opulent chair, fingers still intertwined. "Prepared? There are several Exorcists, and even more Exorcists in training—why do you need to have this knowledge? You don't appear to bring anything special to us; your grades are abysmal, your delinquency record somewhat hefty, and you are, at the moment, crippled. Why not let others protect you?"

Takumi felt a snarl tugging at his nose, but he kept it under wraps as much as he could. This man looked almost like Shiratori did when he was…when he was possessed, except maybe not as animalistic. "Because I sure as fu—sure don't want to be _protected_. I just want to keep myself safe." _And my bros_, he thought, but didn't admit. Damn it, he wasn't a sappy little shit, not like the rest of the kids at this stupid high-end school. Shiratori might have been happy to go here, but Takumi wasn't too keen on the increase in school load.

He had to push down memories of Shiratori's face contorted into a demonic scowl. He tried to forget that unnaturally forked tongue forming _you weak son of a bitch_ with a smirk stretching the corners of his friend's lips to the bottom of Shiratori's pointed ears.

The man behind the desk was quiet for a while, but then spoke after an awkwardly long time. "You speak English fluently, correct?"

The young man blinked. "Um…yeah?"

"_Prove it to me_," the Headmaster said, an eerie grin still on his lips. "_Prove to me that your English is up to par_."

"_Erm…How do you want me to do that?_"

"_I'll be honest…Hisoragi Takumi, was it?_"

Takumi nodded, still trying to process the sudden change from Japanese to English.

"_Hisoragi Takumi, we have an oddly large group of students in Cram School this year_," Faust leaned back onto the desk, but dropped one hand to drum his fingers against the wooden desk. "_Unless you're interesting, I can't let you in._"

"_Interesting? What do you…" _His lips thinned as he realized what was happening. "_You want me to do something for you_."

That shark-toothed grin was back again. "_Apparently, while your scholastic endeavors are less than impressive, you catch on quickly. Yes. I want you to do something for me. I want you to watch a certain person_."

"_Watch them? How am I—_um, _how do I do that?_" He cursed his reluctance to speak his native tongue with his mother and thanked her for beating the language into him at the same time. He'd managed to catch the last part of Faust's eloquent phrasing, but the first had flown straight in one ear and out the other.

"_It's, as one fictional detective once said, elementary. I have made things simple for you. You are, after all, in the same room as your target, Okumura Rin_."

Okumura Rin? Takumi felt fear climb down his spine to the small of his back. "Wa—_Wait, the guy with the fire thing?_"

Faust waved his hand with an air, unconcerned with Takumi's understandable hesitation on the matter. _"Yes, that thing. Not too important. I just need you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he's doing well, report back to me on what happens._"

Takumi's fists tightened around the bars on his crutches. "_That kid's a freak! He—how am I supposed to deal with him?_" Okumura Rin had seen Shiratori, had gone up against his demon-possessed friend and (had he mentioned this yet?) had burst into flames.

"_Didn't that…freak, shall we say…save your life?_" Faust's eyebrow was raised, but there was a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before, and Takumi couldn't decide what it was supposed to mean for the life of him.

The young man couldn't think of an answer to that.

"Well," Faust said, reverting back to Japanese and causing Takumi's brain to whiplash at the sudden change, "that's it then! Just let me know how he does. If anybody else seems to be looking at him funny, let me know that too." There was suddenly a giant lollipop, the swirled ones he'd seen in old sweet shops that one trip back to the US, held in the man's purple-gloved hand. Faust licked it and brightened. "Strawberry and green tea! Delightful."

For all Faust hadn't shown any inclination to bursting into flames, Hisoragi Takumi decided then and there that Okumura Rin's freakishness paled in comparison to the Headmaster's.

* * *

><p>Bon did not understand Okumura Rin.<p>

The subject of Bon's ire mostly slept through Grimoire Lit, and when he actually paid attention, the few notes Bon could see were awful and filled with scrawling awkward doodles. He struggled to answer simple questions in Demonology, like what the lowest order of demon related to Astaroth, King of Rot was called. He kept whispering and snickering with the new girl, a shy thing named Moriyama or Moriyana or whatever.

However, if that's all that Okumura Rin was, Bon could have handled it. Yes, he would be angry with Okumura's lack of initiative and drive to become an Exorcist. Yes, he wouldn't quite be able to comprehend how anybody could slack so much. But he wouldn't be half as confused.

Bon remembered, quite distinctly, how Okumura had—first day of class—failed to describe any prominent distinguishing features of a Goblin. Elementary for anybody who'd already gotten their Masshou, simply because they were creeping and crawling all over the place, and Okumura had obviously already received one of those. And then he'd turned right around, listed off their weak spots, techniques for taking advantage of those spots with a _sword_ of all things, and then cautioned against how stains tended to form on metal if not cleaned of the Goblin's remains.

He also remembered how Okumura's first reaction to the question posed to him by the Demonology instructor was to clench his fist and snarl. Okumura had then relaxed and rubbed the back of his head with his hand, blabbering on until he dug the answer out of that pea-sized brain of his. What the hell was that all about?  
>"C'mon, Bon," Renzou tapped him on the shoulder with his knuckles. "Quit starin' at Rin like you want to burn him to cinders with just the power of your eyes."<p>

_Rin?_ Bon thought, and his head jerked to the right and back in order to look at one of his best friends. "What are you being so buddy-buddy with that slacker for?"

Renzou laughed a little nervously. "I—well, he's a pretty cool guy once you get to know him, and…um…"

"Great minds think alike?" Neko said, his tone light and amused. Bon could tell there was a little bit of sarcasm underneath, but only because he'd known the shorter boy for almost his entire life.

"Yeah! Exactly that!"

"Tch!" Bon turned back around and stared at Okumura's back again. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again; he should just beat it!"

Renzou sighed behind him, and Neko shrugged from where he sat at Bon's left. Before the young monk could open his mouth and say anything, Okumura-sensei—now _there_ was a guy he could respect—had entered the classroom, a sheaf of papers in his hand and the shadow of the Paladin—a small part of Bon would have screamed in an embarrassingly feminine tone if he had let it—right behind him.

"All right, everybody," Okumura-sensei said, a smirk on his lips, "I'll be handing out your graded tests from last week." It was almost absentmindedly that he set the thin briefcase on the desk next to him. "Shima-kun!"

"Yeah, comin' teach." Renzou stood up and yawned, chair squealing backwards as he slouched forward with all the urgency of one of those dumb pigeons walking a heavily-trafficked road.

Sometimes Bon wondered why he was friends with Renzou. He turned his attention back to Okumura and Moriya…Moriyama, Moriyama was her name. He could barely hear her telling Okumura about how confident she was about her test results.

As Kamiki walked up to get her test from the teacher, Okumura glanced over his shoulder and caught Bon's eye. There was a frown in those eyes, a question, but Bon didn't know the other teenager well enough to guess at what it was. Nor did he want to. Anyways, given how Okumura acted during all of his classes, Bon didn't imagine it would take too long for Rin to fall behind into next year's beginner cram school class.

"Moriyama-san?"

The slight little thing next to Okumura perked up and stuttered out a 'yes?'. Bon snorted and ignored Okumura-sensei's kind smile as he handed back a paper that appeared to have too many check marks on it for a good grade.

"Damn," Renzou said, flopping down in the chair behind Bon and letting his paper fall onto the desk carelessly. The motion of white cutting through the air caught Bon's eye, and he took note of the grade at the top without even meaning to. "That Kamiki Izumo is pretty hot, isn't she?"

_76?_ Bon thought, and shrugged it off. It was on the low side of average for Renzou, but it wasn't like he liked plants all that much anyways. Said that they were too close to the dirt, and therefore too close to bugs for his liking.

As Konekomaru berated Renzou for paying more attention to girls than academics, Okumura-sensei called his snickering brother's name. The shock was easy to read in how abruptly Okumura straightened his back after walking up and receiving his graded test back—as if the gurgle of dismay wasn't enough for Bon to know that, once more, Okumura had screwed up.

As Okumura started walking away, glowering at his test and scratching at the back of his head, the teacher looked up, glasses flashing. "Suguro-kun!"

He stood, chair jerking back but not squealing like Renzou's had. "Here, sir!"

As Bon passed Rin, who was just about to slump into his seat, he slid his eyes past the mop of unruly black hair and down onto the red-riddled sheet of paper. On the top right hand corner, he saw the number.

_14_, it said, and Bon sneered at the teenager, who had glanced up to look him in the eye. "I couldn't do as bad as a fourteen if I tried," he said, the side of his mouth curling up. "Try studying instead of flirting."

Looking at Okumura's wide-eyed, almost hurt look, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

The revulsion with the other teen's attitude, however, overwhelmed any regrets Bon had about his words. As if to make up for the momentary weakness, "You make me sick."

Okumura's pupils contracted, and his bangs shadowed his right eye. "Hah?"

Bon turned away and continued up to the teacher. Okumura-sensei's glasses were reflecting too much light for him to make out the other's eyes, but there was a harshness to his mouth as he smiled. "Excellent work, Suguro-kun," he said, and his tone was so contrary to the creases around the corners of his lips that Bon immediately dismissed the idea that Okumura-sensei might be upset at him.

"Thank you very much," he said, and bowed his head a little to show his respect. After straightening, he turned around and caught Okumura's incredulous expression. With a grin and no little bit of impulsiveness, Bon flashed his test at the other teenager and indulged in a wicked smile at Okumura's bug-eyed surprise.

He snorted in laughter and made to continue, but Okumura rose to his feet in a display of anything but teenage awkwardness, the fluidity of his movements causing Bon to pause. "You—a guy like you with an attitude like that just can't get a grade that good!"

That stopped Bon in his tracks. _What the hell?_

"I don't believe it!" Okumura said, flailing about with his arms. "That's—that's completely—it just doesn't ever happen!"

"What the hell are you on about?" Bon returned, free fist clenched and shaking in Okumura's direction before he could think about it. His test paper crinkled under the pressure of his curling fingers.

"You—you're a punk!"

He was so _done_ with this guy.

"You—" Bon snarled, and stepped forward so that he was towering over the little shit who dared to question his work ethic when Okumura's own was so abysmal, "Okay, you wanna know why I'm here? I'm here to learn! I came here to study to be an Exorcist!"

Okumura glowered up at him, the edge of one lip curling up just a little.

"It's not just me, either. Everybody here is trying their hardest!" The growl grew in the pit of his chest and anger threatened to overtake him. He leaned over and emphasized how much taller he was by making Okumura's head crane back to maintain eye contact. "Half-assed punks like you should jus' go home and quit wastin' everybody's time!"

A hot flash of fury streaked through Okumura's blue, blue eyes as his eyebrows pushed them into slits. "What the hell?" He said, the words reverberating past his clenched molars. "What gives you the right to say that? I'm trying just as hard as anybody here, if not _harder_!"

Hands grasped his arms and started tugging him backwards (when had Renzou gotten so strong?), and he lifted his own right hand, the test crumpled between his fingers. His accent slipped into the familiar cadence of the dialect spoken at home. "You're always sleeping—I ain't never seen you givin' the proper attention to one single lesson!"

Okumura lunged forward, but his brother had caught him from behind and was gripping him by the shoulders, his elbows wrapped under Okumura's armpits.

Neko was timidly telling him to calm down, and Renzou whispered in his ear, harsh and in a hiss, "We're in class, Bon!" All Bon could see was the disrespectful, lazy ass who dared to deny his own lack of participation.

"I'm more of a practical person! Ever heard of kines—kinesth—learning by doing, you bastard?"

"Yes, yes, Rin. Excellent points." An indulgent smile was on Okumura-sensei's face, and it was enough to let the fire simmer down into an ember. Bon turned around with a snarl of disapproval on his lips.

"I'm not good at learning stuff when I can't use my hands!"

There was a quiet murmur from Okumura-sensei, and then Okumura quieted down. Bon couldn't discern the words from the snarl Okumura gave his brother in return, but he didn't care. He didn't care what the hell Okumura said, because anything that did come out of his mouth was complete and utter stupidity—he was sure of this.

"Yamada-kun?" Okumura-sensei calls, and he hears the thud of a body falling into a chair. Bon is pushed down into Neko's seat, and his friends surround him—both to the right, one behind and one besides him. He felt the anger fade.

Bon made a point not to look at Okumura the rest of the class.

* * *

><p>Rin made a point not to look back at Suguro-bastard and the Reaper as he stayed a comfortable yard ahead of the former. "How're those brains doing for you now, slow-poke?"<p>

Of course, not looking didn't mean that he couldn't needle the uptight jerk.

"Oh, shut UP!" Suguro grated out behind him, breath heavy with exhaustion. _Huh_, Rin thought to himself, _how would he react if I lapped him?_

"Your smarts won't save you in a fight!" Rin yelled back, smirking as he shifted to turn around and run backwards, just so that he could see the irritation on the rooster-comb bastard's face.

"All that matters in a fight…"

Rin turned, and the smirk fell off his face as Suguro's foot drove towards his gut. _Oh my god is he serious?_

"Is who wins!"

It took a glance up at Octavius's sweatsuit-clad figure and all of his will to not try and evade the kick. That didn't make the blow hurt any less as he was lifted off his feet and pushed back a couple meters before landing on the hard ground. "Ow! Ow ow ow!"

"Aaargh!" Suguro screamed, and Rin pushed himself forward to crouch on his toes, just then remembering that there was, in fact, a huge demon frog-toad-thing chasing them.

"Enough!" Another voice yelled, and the Reaper was jerked back by the sudden tension in the chain it was held on. Rin jerked his head up to look at Ol' Sideburns.

His face was red in fury. "What do you think you're doing? Are you two trying to kill yourselves?" The Reaper rolled on the ground, one way and then the other, until it was able to climb to its legs. It appeared unharmed, but Rin could barely hear its yelps and curses of pain. They buzzed against his ears, causing the inner creases of them to itch. _Not fair_! He made out, the Reaper's face stoic and its mouth closed—_telepath, maybe?_

The teacher continued to shout about how they weren't supposed to be racing each other, they were supposed to learn about how demons moved and possible ways of exploiting those movements, but Rin was snickering at Suguro's red face too much to care.

"Damn, you're fast," Suguro panted out, and Rin stood slowly, not liking the tense lines he was reading in the other teenager's posture.

"Always have been," Rin replied, not wanting to push any of that tension to breaking point—not when there were demons in the arena. He was dimly aware of the teacher descending from the platform where the Reapers were chained inside their weird giant bird cages.

Suguro scoffed and straightened, cheeks puffed out as he tried to regulate his out of control breathing. "Shit, you really don't try at anything, do you?"

Everything in Rin bristled, and he felt a snarl tugging at his nostrils. Suddenly, the demons didn't seem like such a big deal, not when there was somebody in front of him who was insulting his determination. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I'd say exactly what you think it does," Suguro drawled, the sweat dripping down the sides of his face belying the calm he tried to exude, "but that'd be giving you too much benefit of the doubt."

_That's it._ He was so _done_ with this cocky, holier-than-thou attitude. _So done_.

He'd lunged forward, fist cocked back and teeth bared. "You fucker, I lived with _Yukio_!"

The confused face Suguro made before Rin's fist slammed into it was priceless, and he felt a savage joy at the feel of flesh shifting and teeth pushing back into his knuckles. Even as Suguro's face was turned, however, the taller teen's leg came up and hit Rin square in the hip. He felt it throb and grimaced, barely registering the teacher yell again.

Right as Rin started to retaliate with what he envisioned as a knee to the face, however, he felt the back of his shirt be tugged on sharply and he stumbled backwards, choking a little bit and tilting his head back to glare at the bastard that stole his beautiful counterattack opportunity from him.

Sideburns and a prominent, stubble-riddled chin came into Rin's line of sight. "What in the world is up with you two?"

Oh. The teacher. Couldn't really do that then. He jerked his chin back down and settled for snarling at Suguro's amusingly infuriated face as they were dragged back up to the viewing deck. The icing on the cake came with the (admittedly very rude) middle finger he flipped at the other teen and the reaction it elic—elici—caused.

"Sorry 'bout all that!" Shima said, eyes creased up into little crescents as Konekomaru grinned very nervously, straining to restrain his struggling friend.

The teacher sighed and let go of Rin, making him stumble from the sudden lack of tension. "Suguro-kun, a word now."

This seemed to shock Rin's (not nemesis, but at this point he was pissing Rin off even though he looked really really cool and was awfully smart after all) classmate to the point of not struggling against his friends. He paused before answering. "Okay?"

"Huh? Why's it just him? Shouldn't I be going with?" Rin was honestly confused. It didn't seem fair to reprimand one student and not the other. _Is this 'cause of Dad_?

Better not be.

"Eh, who knows?" Shima was standing next to him then, and had bumped Rin's shoulder with his own. "Go easy on Bon, though, if you could."

Rin glanced at the pink-haired teen and raised an eyebrow. "Whaddya mean?"

"Bon doesn't really look like it, but…" Shima shrugged, smile still quirked on his face. Something felt a bit off about it, and Rin narrowed his eyes a bit. "Well, he takes everything so seriously that he can get really worked up over the little stuff."

"Why does he do that?" Rin threw his hands up in the air. "I mean, y'know, you can't control everything, so why get ticked off about everything that doesn't happen the way you want it to?" It was too much of a headache, and kind of part of why Rin had initially forgiven his Dad for the whole 'Hey Rin forgot to tell you but you're the son of one of the biggest and baddest demons in the history of humankind.'

"He's…he wants to be an exorcist because of some crazy ambition of his." Shima laughed a little, as if trying to find a way to tell Rin something absolutely off the wall.

"Bon's doing everything," a voice piped up behind them and Rin turned around to face Konekomaru, who was standing with his feet pointing towards each other, "in order to defeat Satan."

Shima sniggered next to Rin, but all Satan's spawn himself could do was blink and think, _hey, wait, that's actually kinda cool. I can get behind that._

Konekomaru's eyebrows furrowed, and a frown stretched across his face. "You shouldn't laugh, Shima! Bon's working hard to restore our temple, and as his friend you shouldn't make light of his dreams!"

"Why does he need to restore it?" They'd probably find it odd that Rin thought that statement stranger than the one about Bon wanting to defeat Satan. He kept the sentiment to himself.

The short, bald teenager pursed his lips and looked to the side. "Blue Night."

Understanding flooded Rin like a sucker punch to the face. He then wondered, in the stunned silence, how much more Bon would hate him if he knew the truth. "Oh," he said, quiet and soft and unlike himself.

"Exactly." Shima said, nodding almost solemnly. "So, take it easy, even if he does have a really silly goal."

"How is it silly?" Rin asked, tilting his head at the other teen, whose expression looked suddenly shocked. "Dude, that's one of the coolest goals I've heard in a long time. I…" He looked over at where Suguro was still talking with Ol' Sideburns, a nasty look forming on his face. "I don't think he really likes me, and I'm not sure about him either, but I think that Suguro could do it. Heck, I'd probably even support him!"

Rin looked back at Suguro's friends, and took note of their dropped jaws and wide eyes. His face twisted into confusion and a bit of irritation.

"What're those for?"

"You…" Konekomaru said, almost in a squeak, "You actually believe he could do it? We—we're not even Esquires!"

It was kind of sad that the guy who told another person not to make fun of a friend's goal didn't really believe in said friend. "The old man was a snot-nosed brat at one time too, y'know."

Konekomaru's eyebrows furrowed as he mouthed 'old man?' and Shima stifled a snicker with a fist to his lips.

"Resume training!" Ol' Sideburns yelled, and Rin looked back in that direction just to see the teacher stop short and dig a hand into his coat pocket. Suguro continued on past their sensei, and shot Rin a look that seemed even nastier than the last ones.

"What're you lookin' at?" Suguro snarled. Rin frowned, but didn't reply—in part because he was still reeling from the whole deal about his—well, the reason for his demonic heritage being the cause of death for a bunch of innocent people.

"Say what? Right now? My little kitty-cat, what would you do without me?"

That was the other part.

Rin stared at Ol' Sideburns with one eyebrow cocked and one pushed down, seriously weirded out. Their teacher hung up and replaced the phone in his pocket.

"Did…did he seriously just say 'little kitty-cat'?" Shima sounded almost as nearly horrified as Rin did.

"All right, listen up!" Ol' Sideburns lifted a hand to get everybody's attention—not that he needed it after that conversation—and continued talking. "We're taking a short break!"

"Huh?" The look of utter shock on Suguro's face was oddly refreshing.

Rin half expected the teacher to just up and leave them, but the man shifted his uplifted, open hand so that the index finger was the only one pointing up. "Now, the Reaper is usually a relatively docile demon, but it has the nasty habit of reading peoples' minds and attacking!"

_Knew it_, Rin thought sourly. _Telepath. Such a stupid telepath_.

"So until I get back, everybody is to stay here, well out of range of the Reaper's attack! If that's all good, then I'm off!"

True to his word, the man didn't even stay to make sure that all of his students were actually going to follow his instructions and took off into a run, yelling something about being somewhere for his 'little kitty-cat'. If this is what romantic relations consisted of, then Rin felt better off not jumping into one after all.

"Is…" Konekomaru said, voice a bit shaky, "Is that even allowed?"

Suguro had lost the astonished expression and was glowering in the direction the teacher had gone. "The fuck was that all about?"

Shima shrugged. "Dunno."

"Maybe there was an emergency?" This was put forward by Konekomaru, but Suguro didn't even seem to hear anything, still glaring down the ledge.

"That's a teacher? I thought that True Cross Academy was supposed to be a place full of people who actually took their studies seriously—and this is a teacher?"

Rin shrugged. "Exorcists are a quirky bunch—I hear that it gets worse the higher in rank you get, so…"

Suguro glanced at him as if suddenly reminded that Rin was existing within two meters of his presence. "Yeah," he sneered, "you would say that, wouldn't you? You're worse than that teacher is—can't be bothered to actually try to learn, like he can't be bothered to stay and teach!"

Anger rose in him again, and Rin raised his voice, stuffing his fists in his pockets to try to avoid punching the other teen as long as possible. "Somebody's sure running their mouth off today! What makes you think I don't take this stuff seriously, huh?"

"Tch!" The scoff that hissed out from between Suguro's teeth felt ugly in the air between them. "The way you act in class, dumbass!"

"Oh dear…" The bald teenager was glancing between Suguro and Rin in furtive spurts. Rin almost felt bad for the poor guy.

Shima sighed. "Here they go again…Cut him a break already, wouldja? I'm almost as bad as he is and you don't go harping on me!"

"Renzou! Stay out of this."

"He's right, Bon. You're kind of being immature as well."

Well, this sudden halfway-decent behavior from Suguro's best friends was almost surprising—it made Rin almost regret calling them the other teen's flunkies earlier. Almost. The look on Suguro's face earlier was too hard to regret, after all.

Then again, the flash of hurt on Suguro's face was a bit sad, too. "Neko, you too—you're being too nice to a guy who got his rich-ass family to ride into True Cross Academy without having to lift a finger."

Rin's eyebrow spasmed like it was having its own miniature heart attack. _Wait, what?_ He thought he would have remembered having a rich-ass family. Where on earth did Suguro pull that piece of faulty information from? "Where the hell did that come from?"

A light entered Suguro's eyes. Rin did not like the looks of it one single bit. "But you know, if you're going to be so insistent on telling me you're busting your ass as much as the rest of it, you can prove it."

"How?" Rin raised his chin and crossed his arms over his chest. He could take anything this (toocool) jerk threw at him.

Suguro turned around and pointed down at the arena where the Reapers stood, idling the day away. "Go near the Reaper and touch him without getting attacked!"

If Rin was nine, ten or even eleven again, he would have agreed right off the bat. Reapers weren't that dangerous, after all, and Rin knew what he was doing. Right?

_"Confidence isn't bad," Fujimoto said, ruffling Rin's hair and pulling Yukio into his lap, "especially when it's deserved, but overconfidence is dangerous. Remember that, okay?"_

_ Eleven-year-old Rin looked down at his broken body and felt a tinge of fear, but looked up at his brother, small and pale and hurt in their father's arms, and he felt that fear threaten to choke the life out of him. "Yeah," he said, remembering the Naberius looming over his little brother. "I will."_

Rin wasn't eleven any more.

The other teen hadn't even appeared to notice Rin's lack of approval. "Reapers, you see," he was saying in a low tone, looking down at the possessed frog with determination in his eyes, "read the emotions of the people they see. If it picks up on any weakness—fear, sadness, anger, doubt—it moves in for the kill. If you stay calm, it won't attack."

_I knew that already!_

Suguro turned to look at him, a growl in his tense shoulders that didn't quite make it out of his chest. Rin looked, really looked, and felt as though he was on the verge of understanding. "If you're gonna be an exorcist, you wouldn't fear a little ol' Reaper!"

His lips tightened and his bangs fell in his eyes, sharp black fangs against his view of the world. The top of one of the 'fangs' was, from his point of view, digging into Suguro's neck.

With a scoff, the other teen pointed a thumb at himself, lip curled up. "Of course, I'll be doing it too—except I'll win!" His hand fell to his side, and a smirk twisted the corner of his mouth. "If you come back safely, I'll accept that you're serious! So—you gonna do it or not?"

Rin saw fear in the furrow of his eyebrows, anger in the set of his jaw, and desperation in the tightness of the skin over Suguro's knuckles, and knew then that this could not go on.

"Dude," he said, soft and slow but with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, "that's a stupid idea."

"Hah?"

A movement of green and purple caught the corner of Rin's eye, and he gazed down at the Reaper below as it shifted its front legs. "Someone once told me that confidence is a pretty cool thing, but that overconfidence'll get you killed. I'm passing that on to you. Jumping down there? That's stupid and overconfident and if you do it, you will die."

Suguro stared at him, and there was a flintiness in his gaze that told Rin he wasn't getting through. "So you're a coward. You're going to stay up here and you're not going to risk your life?"

"Like you," Rin answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and relaxing a little, "I have a goal. And I'm not going to kill myself with a stupid, juvenile stunt like this." Mentally, he patted himself on the back for inserting big words into his little speech. Yukio would be so proud.

The confusion on Suguro's face was beautiful, and he seemed stupefied to the point of being unable to even talk. After a period of about five seconds passed, Rin deemed the situation taken care of and turned around, grinning and lacing his fingers across the back of his head.

"You _told_ him?" he heard Suguro growl.

Rin felt the sudden urge to go talk to Shiemi. The fact that she was conveniently sitting down on the ledge a few meters in the opposite direction of Suguro was sheer coincidence.

"You're just scared!" he heard Suguro shout, and half twisted to make sure the other teen wasn't doing something stupid like jumping off the side of the arena.

The sight that met him caused him to blink twice in confusion. Wait—was somebody actually being stupider than he was?

"If you won't fight," Suguro shouted, head turned to watch Rin as he skidded down the concrete slope of the arena, "then I will! Just stand there and watch!"

The rest of the class started tittering but Rin felt his heart stop in his chest, and he clenched his fists by his side, suddenly horribly aware of the fact that there was not only one spy in the class, but two.

_What do I do?_ He asked himself, frozen in indecision as Suguro reached the bottom of the arena. _What do I do?_

Suguro started walking towards the Reaper, who sat patiently. Rin couldn't see its eyes from here, but there was a feeling of buzzing curiosity coming from the creature if he focused hard enough.

"I…" The teenager in the arena shouted, strides purposeful and steady.

_What do I do what do I do what do I do._

"I'm gonna defeat Satan!" Suguro was close, he was too close.

_This is important to him but this is so stupid and he could die, and they're both in here one behind me leaned against the wall next to Shura-sensei, the other is god dammit I don't know any more what do I do?_

There was a bit of a cough behind him, to his right, but Kamiki Izumo burst into mocking laughter. "What—What did he say? Did he just say that he was going to defeat Satan? What is he, an idiot child?"

Rin's breath caught in his chest and his eyes widened. His head snapped to the left and he hissed, "You _idiot!_" at Izumo, who turned to him with startled and affronted eyes. But there was no time for that, because Rin knew in that moment that Suguro's calm had utterly shattered.

The moment he saw the Reaper tense to move, its throat vibrating in the beginnings of a triumphant roar, he threw all _what do I do_ out the window and just _did_.

Bothering with sliding down the sloped concrete wasn't worth it and would only slow him down. Instead, Rin leapt off the ledge with all of his might and jumped, tucking into a roll when his feet hit the ground in a way that would allow him to crouch and spring into a sprint. It took maybe two seconds to get to Suguro and then another half a second to pass him. His right hand tensed over the armband on his left wrist before he aborted the action and simply used his body to shield his classmate.

As the Reaper's mouth closed around him, Rin lifted one arm to shield his face, but left the other in the cavern of tongue, teeth, and gum. If his gamble went south, he would not hesitate to use any concealed spark to make sure the demon let go of him.

He was only dimly aware of the shocked screams and yells behind him, focused as he was on the tight pressure around his torso, on the teeth clamped under his arm and down his ribs. He was focused on the red-purple iris of the Reaper's eye, centimeters away from his own face, and how he could hear its confusion and wariness.

_Reapers read the emotions of the people they see._

It's what he was banking on, teeth bared and eyebrows drawn in angry lines down to the center of his face.

_Get off me, _he thought, furious and low and angry the way he remembered Fujimoto was when he was eleven. _Get the fuck off me and get the fuck away from my classmates_.

The pressure loosened, but not quick enough for Rin. The Reaper was unwilling to lose its quarry after so long without prey, locked up in the metal birdcages hanging from the central observation deck.

_I said_, Rin growled, unleashing just a little control of the flames so that they sparked and sizzled in his own blue, blue eyes, _GET. OFF._

He liked to imagine that this was the fastest the Reaper had ever let something out of its mouth, and ignored the drool and saliva seeping into the weave of one of his favorite shirts. Turning around, he saw Suguro on the ground, arms trembling with fear and shock as he stared up at Rin.

"All right, you idiot," Rin said, tight and angry with Suguro, with himself, with stupid demons and stupid spies and stupid fears, "listen up. Doing stupid shit like this isn't going to get you much further than the mouth of the _next _demon that comes your way, and how're you gonna defeat Satan like that?"

"Wha…wha…What?"

"And if that doesn't happen, you're getting one of your friends stuck in the mouth of some demon that comes your way, and how're you gonna feel about that?" He realized, dimly, that sometime in the past sentence his fists had found their way to his hips.

"I—you—what?"

"Besides, you're screwing with my ambition here, and that's just…that's just unbelievable levels of rude! The sooner you get rid of this death wish, the easier my job'll be!"

Suguro finally got his voice back. "Death—death wish? I don't think I'm the one with a death wish here! I'm not the one who jumped into a Reaper's mouth!"

"Well," Rin shot back, "I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't run off half-cocked with doubt in your damn heart about your own goal! Who does that? Who does that in front of a _demon_? God, you're not going to last the trip to defeating Satan at this rate!"

"What, you're gonna make fun of me too?" His tone was defensive, and Rin could see the desperation flickering in his eyes again.

_No. No. This stops now_.

"'Course not! Somebody has to off him some time, and there's no reason why it shouldn't be you."

The desperation abated, but the caution there made Rin backtrack.

"I mean, other than the whole stupid throwing yourself into danger without really taking the situation into account, but whatever." Rin shrugged and sighed Yukio's sigh, the one he did when Rin himself had been acting particularly idiotic or immature.

Suguro immediately bristled and stood, ranting and raving at Rin, spirit back in his frame with very little of the hostility that was there before. The fact that he was there, whole and unharmed and just a little spiritually stronger than before was enough for Rin. It was enough to ignore the prickle up his spine that came with the awareness of being stared at, and Rin knew that if he turned around Angelin—that bastard Angel would be watching him, calculating and categorizing.

Rin wished he hadn't had to do it. He wished Suguro wasn't so desperate for acknowledgement. He wished his friends had supported him more. He wished that Kamiki Izumo hadn't been such a bitch about Suguro's wish. He wished there weren't spies, he wished that Dad didn't have to deal with the fallout of this action, he wished that he wasn't Satan's goddamn son.

But they were all alive, and he would take what he could get.

* * *

><p>He looked down at the paper in his clammy, sweaty right hand, and stared at the smudged ink number written on it. He looked to his left, where his luggage was stacked next to the baseboards in an intimidating pile. Then he looked up at the wooden door, the number <em>413<em> carved into a golden metal plate that was affixed to the door.

Hisoragi Takumi then looked down at the key clenched in his equally clammy, sweaty left hand, and sighed heavily. _Here we go_, he thought, and he slid the key into the lock before twisting it.

The room, he realized, hobbling in on his crutches, was empty at the moment. The only bed that seemed to be unoccupied was one of the top bunks.

_Well,_ he thought, _maybe one of my less crazy roommates will be nice enough to switch with me_. Crazy fire-guy Okumura was obviously out, seeing as the last time he'd seen the guy he was snarling and baiting a clearly creepy Shiratori. No way was that guy anything other than scary and tough.

Laughing and bickering voices echoed down the hallway, and Takumi sighed, thinking that maybe he could enlist help from at least his dormmates in getting all of his belongings into the room.

"Seriously, how can you be so stupid and so smart at the same time?"

"Back atcha!" That voice was oddly familiar. Maybe Takumi had heard it from his time around Shiratori?

Takumi shuffled-swung back to the doorway and moved to peer around the corner. His dreadlocks fell off his shoulder as he leaned over.

"Please don't fight." That voice belonged to a bald kid, one of the shortest he'd ever seen of his age group—assuming that he was, at any rate.

The pink haired kid chimed in. "Yeah, listen to Neko! I mean, you remember what happened the last time they did that, right?"

"Renzou, we're in public!" Holy shit that guy was tall—he looked like an even bigger punk than Shiratori was, with his piercings and cock's comb of bleached hair.

The remaining figure snickered. "Dude, that sounded so _wrong_."

Hisoragi Takumi focused on him and paled. _No no no no no_, something inside of him screamed, _no not him why him why so soon!_

Before he could duck back into the room and try to forget that he'd even seen the scary punk who'd taken on Shiratori and survived, the little bald guy noticed him and frowned a little. He poked the pink-haired teen next to him in the side and then tilted his head in Takumi's direction.

By then they'd all realized that yes, room _413_ was open and yes, there was a guy on crutches standing in the way.

"Don't mean to be rude," the pink haired one said, a couple meters away from Takumi, "but who're you?"

Takumi tried his best not to look in the direction of Crazy Okumura. "I…" he swallowed, tongue feeling suddenly heavy. "I was told I was rooming here. Something about entering the same Cram School?"

For a moment, there was blank confusion on the faces of those around him. Then the guy with the cock's comb brightened up, his mouth opening in an 'ah' of understanding. "You're the guy Okumura-sensei told us about—just out of the hospital, right?"

_Okumura…sensei?_ He thought in something he would never acknowledge was a squeak. _Crazy Okumura's teaching the damn cram school_?

"Wait wait wait," the figure of Takumi's deepest…well, not deepest, but one of his darkest fears spoke up. "Wait, you're on crutches, right? Your shin was broken, right?"

Takumi nodded, deliberately not looking in the face of the stuff his nightmares. _If I'm quiet maybe he'll stop paying attention_ _to me._

"Oh my god," Crazy Okumura said. Takumi would have said it was horror in his voice if he didn't know better. "Oh my god you're on _crutches_."

"What's the big deal about crutches?" The pink haired guy asked, but he didn't get an answer as _ohnononoi'mnotactuallyheregoaway_ Crazy Okumura stalked up to him and put his hands under Hisoragi's shoulders.

Despite all of his misgivings about the Okumura guy he was supposed to watch, all Hisoragi Takumi could describe Okumura's next actions as was gentle. He was lifted up, carefully and so that his head didn't hit the top of the doorway, and deposited just to the left of the entrance inside the room.

"I am so sorry," Okumura said, and suddenly he was a blur, pulling the pillows and sheets and _was that a stuffed animal?_ off of the bottom bunk to the left of the door. "I am so sorry here you can have my bed."

"Dude, what are you doing?" In his astonishment about being bodily lifted—like he was as fragile as one of those stupid porcelain dolls his grandma liked to collect—Takumi hadn't realized that Okumura's cronies/friends had followed to the doorway to watch the spectacle unfold.

"Get your shit off the top bunk!" Okumura cried, wrestling with the bottom sheet of what was apparently his bed. "I need to sleep up there now, get it off!"

Pink-hair looked at Takumi, then down at the crutches, and then up at the top bunk to the right of the door. "Oh, yeah," he said with a sheepish smile and rubbing the back of his head. "I don't suppose he could get up there, could he?"

Cock's-comb behind him rolled his eyes and pushed past his friend. "I take it back, Okumura, Renzou here's thicker than you are."

In only a few minutes, Hisoragi Takumi was watching three strangers and one figure of his nightmares shuffle the contents of the room around in order to accommodate him, all bickering with each other and grinning.

He hadn't realized that Crazy Okumura could smile like that, like he was embarrassed and unused to the attention he was getting. A split second after thinking just that, Okumura looked over at him and smiled. His grin was nowhere near as toothy as Faust's was.

"Heh, sorry, we didn't think about when you'd be coming in. Where's your stuff?" There was certainly recognition there, but also open friendliness and a kind of relief as well.

All Takumi could do was point outside the door, struck in to dumb silence.

"I'll go get it, then!" Another blinding smile later, Okumura was out the door, and Hisoragi Takumi was left in the room with three other guys, one of which was shaking his head at the sloppy way the uniforms and clothing had been shifted over to the other closet. That was the bald guy, and he actually seemed to be straightening them and categorizing them according to formality.

"Yo, I'm Suguro Ryuuji. That's Suguro to you." The tall guy—Suguro, Takumi supposed, crossed his arms over his chest and looked him up and down.

"Haha, don't let him intimidate you too much," Pink-hair said, laughing a little in a way that seemed habitual. "He's not that tough. I'm Shima Renzou, call me Shima. Nice t'meetcha!"

"Nice to meet you too," Takumi returned, still a little shell shocked.

The bald-headed guy looked up from where he was switching the places of a blue hoodie—the one Okumura had been wearing when he'd stopped them from playing with all those pigeons—with a white dress shirt. "I am Miwa Konekomaru," he said, bowing a little. "Until we are on closer terms, I would appreciate being called Miwa-san or Miwa-kun. It's nice to meet you."

A startled curse outside distracted Takumi, but he returned to the whole formality of exchanging names. "I'm Hisoragi Takumi. I guess…call me what you want, I don't care. Nice to…" He trailed off at their sudden expressions of incredulity, and Takumi turned his head to see why.

At first, he thought he was hallucinating, but in came Okumura, all Takumi's bags situated somewhere on him and not looking like it was much effort at all to cart them places. _What the actual hell_, Takumi thought, and it didn't appear he was alone in that sentiment.

"So, where d'you want these?" Okumura asked, cheery and sounding like carrying that much weight was an every-day experience for him.

Hisoragi Takumi couldn't reply for a moment. "Um, I guess over by the desk?"

Somehow, Okumura flashed him a thumb's up. "Right!"

Everybody else was silent as he tromped over to the two-man desk on the right side of the room and carefully unloaded his burden there.

"Haha, yeah…" Pink-hair said, eyes curled up into crescents. "He did that the first day I was here too. I guess it's normal?"

Cock-comb—Suguro, that was—blinked, and then his jaw finally dropped all the way. "What do you mean, that's _normal?_ That's nothing at all like normal! I can't do that and I work out every morning!"

Okumura stood up, letting the last suitcase down onto the ground with a quiet _thud!_ "What kind of work out?"

_That's not the point_! Hisoragi Takumi wanted to yell. _That's not the point here at all! What the hell are you that you can do that? That you can ignore this feeling in the air?_

As Suguro began squawking at Okumura, gesticulating wildly to convey his feelings on the matter of Okumura's strength, Takumi could only stare in wonder at the look on the black-haired teen's face. He looked so happy, so alive. But then Takumi remembered the snarl in Okumura's eyes and the way he'd popped his shoulder back into place like it was nothing, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

_He can't be such a good guy, _he thought to himself. _He can't be. Badasses aren't a nice as he seems to be, and only a badass could go up against that crazy demon that was wearing Shiratori's skin and walk out alive_.

_He can't be that nice. He can't be._

_ He can't._

Some very small part of him wished that Okumura Rin was, though. It wished very, very hard that Okumura Rin was exactly the kind of guy who was nice just because he could be.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well there you have it! Tune in on **August 17th** for the next chapter! Hope you like Shiemi, because Chapter 14 is hers.


	14. Freundschaft

**A/N:** I have an announcement to make.

**Please read this before you continue on to the chapter!**

So. I have chapters 15-18 finished, and chapter 19 started. This was done on purpose so that I had a buffer for the school year.  
>Here are your updating options:<p>

You can choose either **a monthly update **(September 14th), an update **every 1.5 months** (September 31st), or an update **once every 2 months **(October 12th).

Please let me know what is preferred! I have just enough to currently make it to the end of the year, but second semester is wreathed in the shadows of uncertainty. Those are four more chapters (at most) that have to be written some time during the school year, and I'm not sure that I'll be able to make that happen. If I do, I can always speed up the update process, but I most certainly will be unable to update more than once a month.

**EDIT 8/20/14: **I've decided on updating approximately every 1.25 months, so the next update is **September 28th**.

All right, now that that's over with, on to the chapter! Enjoy :)

* * *

><p>Chapter Fourteen: <em><span>Freundschaft <span>_

(Friendship)

.

"Today," Shiemi said, hyperaware of how her voice was trembling almost as hard as her hands were as she fit her key into the door, "I'm going to make some more friends!"

Rin was a really good friend—a good first friend!—but he seemed to be spending a bit more time with some of the guys of the class as of late. She wanted to have some friends like that, she didn't want to be the tagalong that ruined everybody's moods!

"I'm going to say hello to everybody," she twisted the key in the lock, "and try my hardest! Watch over me, Granny!"

With those words, Shiemi pushed the door opened and entered the Cram School hallway, heart thudding against her ribcage harder than it had in almost all her life. Peering down the hallway, she felt it stutter when she saw Kamiki-san and Paku-san walking down the hall together.

_Today_, she told herself, clenching her fist above her heart, _today is the day!_

She took one step, and then two, and then another, each faster than the one that came before. "He—"Her voice was too soft, so she raised it. "Hello!"

But then her foot twisted in her haste and she stepped down awkwardly, tumbling with a cry due to the sudden loss of support. Her cheeks, Shiemi thought, would have burst into flame if they could.

The young gardener pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, a whispered 'ouch' escaping her lips.

Kamiki-san scoffed and looked back at her—_she looked back at me!_—with a smile on her beautiful face. "So clumsy!"

_She looked at me_, Shiemi thought, sighing a little in shame at her own inability to put one foot in front of the other without tripping as Paku-san stopped in her tracks, concerned.

"Are you all right? I'm sorry, she—Izumo!" Paku-san looked between Shiemi and her friend, but moved on when Kamiki-san called her name.

Staring down at her hands, palm down on the cold tile floor, Shiemi sighed again, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. _You can't be so clumsy_, she rebuked herself, _not if you want friends! You—you have to be amazing!_

"Shiemi? What're you doing down there?"

Rin's eyes were so wide and bright and worried as he crouched down beside her, arms draped over the sharp corners of his knees. She sniffled a little and looked away, mouth trembling as she tried not to cry.

"It's…It's nothing." A hiccup betrayed her, and she slapped both hands over her lips.

"Hey," He pulled her hands off and held them in his own. "Hey, it's okay. Are your legs giving you trouble again? I can go get Yukio if you need me to."

She shook her head violently, eyes fixed firmly on the ground and cheeks flaring at the mere idea of Yuki-chan even seeing her like this.

"Um, I guess we'll just…head to class first?"

She saw just a hint of red on her friend's face before she snapped her head up to look at the speaker. It was the classmate with pink hair standing behind Rin, an easy grin on his face and his bag slung casually over one shoulder. Next to him stood the student who'd come in from the hospital a few weeks earlier, balancing on his crutches with an odd expression on his face.

The blood rushed to her cheeks with such force that Shiemi thought they might be glowing by now. She snatched her hands out of Rin's. "Uh…" she stammered, belatedly remembering her promise to herself, "uh, G—good morning…"

"G'morning." It sounded more like a grunt, and Shiemi could see the circles under his eyes when she looked a little closer. "Can we go now?"

With a grin, the non-crippled classmate—Shima?—waved back, apparently ignoring the dreadlock-haired classmate's words. "Good morning! Should I tell Okumura-sensei you might be a bit late?"

Shiemi saw Rin nod out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah. It shouldn't be long, but just make sure he knows I haven't slept in or whatever stupid reason he makes up for me."

"I'm fine, Rin," She blurted out, drawing her feet underneath herself and getting ready to stand. "I'm fine, I really am." _I can't rely on Rin,_ she told herself, _I can't hang off him forever if I want to get friends of my own._

But Rin didn't listen, shooing the other two boys away with his hand. "Go, go, I'll be there in a few."

Shima-san shrugged and turned to the third boy in the hall. "Ready?"

"I've been standing here waiting," the boy with the dreadlocks groused. "Of course I'm ready."

They set off together, Shima-san talking their classmate's ears off as they made slow progress to the classroom at the other end of the hallway.

Shiemi put her hands over her face, hiding her beet-red appearance from the world and doing her best to breathe in and out, slow and certain and not at all about to cry. The emotions inside of her were contradictory; pride, embarrassment, joy, disappointment. She couldn't make heads or tails of what she was feeling, and Rin's hand on her shoulder wasn't helping at all.

"What's wrong?"

Biting her lip, she shot to her feet and fisted her hands by her sides. _I can't rely on him, even if he's a friend! I can't be carried forever!_ "It's nothing, really!" She took four steps past him before she stepped down wrong (again! These dratted shoes) and lost her balance.

A warm arm wrapped around her midsection and stopped her from falling flat on her face. Shiemi pursed her lips and cursed at her own weakness.

"You are so much heavier than you look," Rin grunted behind her, and she felt the blush creep down into her neck. Maybe she'd pass out soon from the lack of blood in her—_no. No fainting. Fainting is for princesses who can't take care of themselves_.

She'd much rather be a princess who could make friends with dragons and hold her own than one who cowered in fear behind a knight in shining armor.

"Let me go," she said, trying to be firm but failing, her voice quivering. "I don't need your help, let me go!"

She firmly ignored the hurt look on his face.

"If—if you say you so, I guess." Even though he'd just said that, he made sure that she was steady on her own two feet before pulling his arm from around her. She felt just a little colder than she was before.

Glancing at him again only showed her the tightness in his jaw and the look he was giving the ground. She was about to give in and apologize when he shook his head and turned back to her, grinning a little.

"That doesn't mean we can't walk to class together, does that?"

Shiemi was about to say that it did, just for the reason that _I don't need help_, but she thought twice about it. Not needing protection, she mused, wasn't the same as not needing friendship. "I'd like that!"

Rin's smile brightened from that fake grin he wore earlier and Shiemi's heart lifted at the sight of it. As he babbled on about how their classmate—Takumi-san?—was catching up, even though he wasn't the brightest and he couldn't participate in gym class, she smiled.

Even if Yuki-chan hadn't been teaching class, Cram School would be worth it if Rin was at her side.

* * *

><p>Rin shifted from one foot to the other, casting jealous eyes at the metal folding chair that Takumi was shifting down onto with a sigh of relief. Dreadlocks noticed and looked up at him through the tangled ropes of hair. "What?"<p>

"Nothing," Rin said, casting his eyes away and over at the teacher, who was starting to draw a summoning circle with what looked like a giant compass. "You doing okay?"

There was a split second pause in which his classmate didn't answer, and then Takumi replied, scathing and sarcastic. "Sure, I forgot to take my pain meds this morning and I'm doing absolutely wonderful. Thanks for asking."

"Don't need to be such an ass about it," Rin mumbled, toeing at the ground with his shoe. "Just wondering if I could do anything."

"Rin, Rin, Rin," Shima said, throwing an arm around Rin's shoulders. His hand—the one holding the magic circle that Neuhaus-sensei had passed out at the beginning of class—dangled over Rin's shoulder, and the elder Okumura glanced at Shima's face. "Don't pay any mind to our dear friend Hisoragi. He's always in this mood, remember?"

"Oh, shut up," Takumi snarled, but Rin didn't think the heat was in it. "You're one to talk, Mister I-wake-up-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-bed-every-day."

Rin smirked. "You know, he has a point."

"And you're all idiots," Bon drawled. The elder Okumura glanced over at him and snorted, finally used to all of the flack that Bon dealt out on a daily basis.

"Thanks, Bon!" he replied, tone cheery just to annoy his classmate.

At the same time that Shiemi—half-hidden behind him and being rather shy—tugged insistently on Rin's jacket, Konekomaru caught Rin's eye. The short guy jabbed a finger up to his lips before glancing over to the middle of the room. Upon looking over in that direction, Rin realized that (whoops) Neuhaus-sensei was looking at them with a flat expression on his face.

Deciding that getting things done fast was more important (this time) than his friends' physical well-being, Rin punched Shima in the shoulder and, reaching across Shiemi, smacked the back of Takumi's head. They were really just light taps, but they both hissed and glared at him.

"_Sensei_," he whispered, trying to make it seem as though he wasn't speaking, but by this point the entire class had stopped talking and were looking in their group's direction.

"Thank you," Neuhaus-sensei drawled, "for kindly allowing me to start class."

Rin rubbed the back of his head, a little abashed. He didn't speak because he knew from experience (so, so many grueling training/punishment exercises from Shura-sensei) that the sooner he shut up and stayed shut up, the smoother things would go.

True enough, the teacher returned his attention to the rest of the class and began his lecture. "Don't step on the diagram. Breaking the lines—any one of them—renders the effects of the circle ineffective.

"Summoning," he continued, pulling the sleeve of his right arm back so that the class could clearly see the bandaged hand, blood seeping through the white gauze, "requires blood and the correct invocation. You cannot, after all, get something without giving in return."

Rin wrinkled his nose. Fujimoto'd never taught him summoning, and he didn't want to think of what he could do with any demonic blood he had. Hopefully, Rin didn't get anything, because that might be freaky and decidedly not helpful to keeping certain secrets secret.

Their teacher raised his hand over the circle, having pulled on the bandages to shift some of the scabs underneath to allow the blood to flow—at least, that's what Rin thought he did. The blood plinked down onto the ground, and Rin was bizarrely reminded of that one time with the ghouls and the pigeons all those years ago. It didn't make him very optimistic about the session, honestly.

"Son of Typhon and Echidna, hear my call," Neuhaus-sensei intoned, the mere feel of the words ringing with power and might, "and come forth!"

In a plume of sulphuric-smelling mist, an arm pushed out of the stone like it was water before levering the rest of the body up. Rin's breath caught in his throat, and he had to clench his fists to stop from reacting to the demon that came out.

_It's a summoned demon_, he told himself, taking in the Naberius before him and trying to stop his muscles from clenching in preparation for battle. _It won't do anything the summoner doesn't want and Neuhaus-sensei doesn't want to hurt us. It can't do anything._

"Few exist in the world," Rin dimly registered, trying to calm his racing heart and failing miserably, "who can call demons and tame them to work at their side. Doing so requires a strong spirit and natural talent for Taming."

Even though Shiemi seemed to be doing perfectly fine, Shima was recoiling next to him and wrinkling his nose. "God that stinks!"

"I've never seen a Naberius before," Bon murmured, and when Rin looked at him behind Shima's shock of pink hair, he looked amazed.

"Lucky you," he grumbled before he could stop himself, and looked away at Bon's sharp, inquiring glance. He turned his attention back to the teacher.

But at that moment, Neuhaus-sensei was staring at him, a glint of something in his eyes that Rin didn't like. "We're going to see if you have that ability," he said, and even though Rin had no other reason to distrust the teacher other than he didn't like how Neuhaus-sensei looked at him, Rin decided that he was going to watch Neuhaus-sensei.

As Neuhaus-sensei looked back to the rest of the class, Rin appraised the demon in the middle of the circle. _It's a summoned demon_, he told himself again, _and it won't do anything the summoner doesn't want_.

That didn't mean that Rin was safe, so he started categorizing the creature's strengths and weaknesses as Neuhaus went through his spiel on how to summon things.

The Naberius—this one, at any rate—had abnormally long legs, and the muscles on them were intense. Probably very quick, Rin mused, and its tail might help it keep its balance when landing or—god forbid—help it keep its speed when turning sharp corners. It didn't look to be the kind of demon with lots and lots of armor, so if you could get a jab in, then it would go through pretty nice. Also didn't seem to be built for grabbing its prey, so it was probably more of a blunt, quick-moving hitter that didn't pack too much punch behind its strikes with its own strength alone. It relied on speed to make its punches brutal.

_Could probably take it down_, Rin thought to himself, finally relaxing, _but only if the others didn't get in the way_.

A commotion on the other side of the room pulled his attention back to the class. Kamiki had a smug, self-assured expression on her face and was flanked by what looked like two white foxes with ruffles around their necks.

"What're those again?" he mumbled, suddenly reminded about his own summoning paper. Was he supposed to be trying the thing out?

Neuhaus-sensei didn't seem to be overly concerned with the exclamations in the class, and was instead studying the familiars Kamiki had summoned. "Two _byakko_, huh," he said, one hand cradling his chin. "Well done, Kamiki Izumo."

Oh shit they were. Rin looked down at the paper in his hands, then decidedly lifted a thumb up to his mouth to get it wet.

"Wow, Izumo-chan! I didn't get anything." That was Kamiki's follower (she seemed a lot nicer than Kamiki, though), and she held an expression of surprise and pride, even though her finger was bleeding.

Kamiki's head tilted back just a little as the people around Rin started to mumble nonsensical phrases. "Of course!" he heard her say. "I've got the blood of shrine maidens running through my veins!"

As Bon mumbled and grumbled about not getting anything, Rin was quickly working at his paper, on one of the stars in the bottom corner closest to him. Hey, he might not get anything even with a normal circle, but he'd rather be safe than sorry—he wasn't the only one at risk here, after all.

"Nope, nothing," Shima said, sighing. "If only I could have joined the beautiful Izumo-chan in private lessons to become a Tamer."

Bon smacked Shima across the back of his head. "Idiot! Some of us actually thought it might be nice!"

Next to Rin, Takumi started grumbling. "Knight and Aria, and he still wants to add a third meister? What the hell is he?"

Rin shrugged as he heard Neko say something about not getting any results and as Shiemi started going really starry-eyed over Kamiki. "Crazy. You know what you want to do?"

"I don't even know what most of them are about. Can't participate, can I?" Takumi gestured down to his leg. "Magic circle didn't work, and I hate memorizing things, and being a medic is for wusses."

His eye twitched. "Hey, medics aren't wusses! Where the hell did that come from? Yukio's a medic, the old man's a medic—and they're a couple of the strongest people I know!"

Takumi shrugged and didn't respond, staring down at the paper on his lap with an angry expression. If Rin didn't know better, Takumi was probably sulking.

Wait. He probably was. Rin sighed and turned to Shiemi to ask her what she wanted to do now that Summoning hadn't worked for her either.

A tiny greenman was perched on her shoulder and was staring him straight in the eye.

"Gah! What the—when did that get there?" Rin leapt back and nearly bowled Shima over, arms held up as if to shield himself. "You—I—what?"

"Rin!" Shiemi smiled at him, the miniature greenman hanging off the thin strands of her silky blonde hair (not that he'd ever touched it, no, not even by accident-on-purpose) and looking almost adorable. As adorable as demons got, at least. "Rin, look, I summoned a…a baby greenman!"

_That's actually kinda cool,_ Rin thought blinking a little in surprise. "What does it do?" he asked instead, and Shiemi blushed.

"I…I don't know," she muttered, frowning a little. Rin felt like he'd just stabbed himself in the foot.

"Uh—I mean, it's not like you have to know I'm just a bit curious and it's actually really cool, I just wanted to know what it could do because that'd make it even cooler, and—" A hand clapped over his mouth from behind, and Rin barely resisted the urge to bite it.

But Shiemi's face had brightened, her eyes curved shut and her mouth curled up at the sides, and she giggled out a 'thank you' that was so quiet and sincere that Rin wanted to gather her up in his arms and hug her to death.

"Are you done embarrassing yourself?" Shima asked behind him. He almost nodded in response, but instead stuck out his tongue and licked Shima's palm, snickering as the other boy whipped his hand off so fast that he might have strained something in his arm doing so.

As Shima whined and complained about having spit smeared all over his skin, Rin turned back to his friend (the guys were cool but—well—were they friends? Rin didn't know. They'd never told him) and opened his mouth to talk with her. Shiemi, however, was already calling across the room to Kamiki.

"K-Kamiki-san!" She called out, red to the very tips of her ears. "I-I've got a familiar, just like you!"

Rin saw Kamiki tilt her nose out, saw the way her jaw set and an ugly gleam entered her eyes, and knew that when her mouth opened it was only meant to be mean. "Wow," she said, and even Rin could hear the sarcasm in her voice, "cool. It's so tiny and cute, like a speck of dirt!"

Next to him, Shiemi blushed and stammered out a thank you, her smile wide and beaming, but Rin clenched his fists and glared at Kamiki. The girl across the room sniffed derisively and went to turn away, but caught his eye and paused for a moment.

_Don't take this any further_, he thought to her, even though she couldn't hear him. _Don't you dare mess with Shiemi. Don't you dare mess with my friend_.

Then the moment was gone as the scoff returned and she turned her head completely to face the teacher.

Neuhaus-sensei was quiet for a moment, and it dawned on Rin that he had been quiet since Kamiki had summoned her foxes—did he just not like Shiemi enough to acknowledge her, or something? Who would do that, anyways? Shiemi was adorable and sweet and not at all like stuck-up I'm-too-amazing-for-the-rest-of-the-classroom Kamiki. _Or maybe you weren't paying enough attention_, a voice shockingly similar to Yukio's said, but he smacked that idea down hard. He was aware of his surroundings all the time! Right? Right?

He was also distantly aware that he hadn't been called on to summon anything. Score!

"It seems that we have a few possible tamers this year," Neuhaus-sensei finally said, his hands on his hips in an attempt to look stern. As far as Rin was concerned, it was working. "This is very fortunate; only a few Tamers in the Exorcism community can use their demons to fight."

His leather eyepatch glinted in the light of the unfinished room, and the movement of the demon in the circle caught Rin's eye. It was making soft hurking and hacking noises, and its head was tilted in Rin's direction.

Rin tried his best not to notice.

"Demons refuse to obey anyone weaker than they are, and will attack their summoner if he or she lacks confidence. Again, as said before…" Neuhaus-sensei dragged his foot across the array on the floor, and the Naberius sunk back into the floor with a show of lightning and sinking tile, its eyeless face still trained on Rin's, "a familiar will disappear if the magic circle is broken. If you feel in danger—from your own demon, or from another summoner's—rip or disturb the circle."

Shiemi giggled beside Rin. "I don't wanna do that!"

He looked sidelong at her, and then up at the peeping squeaking demon on her head. With narrowed eyes, he concluded that it seemed harmless enough. _After all, _he thought, _it wouldn't have come if she wasn't strong enough._

The next day, Rin had to remind himself that he knew that Shiemi was strong. She survived a possession and was even able to tame demons! She was able to face her fears and keep going forward. Sometimes, though, Rin wished that Shiemi was strong enough to say _no_.

"It's like she's a servant girl for that short-eyebrowed Kamiki!" He grumbled, hands flailing everywhere. "She's being treated like shit!"

Takumi groaned from where he was sitting on the ground. "Would you lay off already? We've heard this, like, a million fucking times."

The elder Okumura opened his mouth to respond, but something smacked into the back of his head. Turning around, he mustered his strongest glare and fixed it on Bon's frowning face.

"What was that for?" He yelled, jutting his head out to get in the way of Bon's. This was a feat in and of its self, considering how much taller Bon was than him.

"I told you yesterday, they're just playin'!"

Rin's mouth dropped open. "Wha—and I told you that was bullshit! People don't play like that! Not unless it's Kamiki Short-Brows playing with Shiemi like a cat would with a mouse!"

"Oh my god just shut up." Takumi shifted behind him—probably to hold his head, which is what he did a lot when the pain meds were wearing off.

There was a heavy sigh behind him, and Rin whirled back around to confront Yukio leaning against the door of the old boys' dorm. "And you! What are you doing about this mess—your job as a teacher is to stop bullying, isn't it?"

"I am not omnipotent, Nii-san," Yukio replied, shifting his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Besides, it's better that a teacher not insert himself in the drama of his students."

Rin fumed. Shiemi was getting bullied and nobody else was at all worried about it! What was wrong with everybody?

"Maa," Shima intoned from where he was lying down on the steps of the dorm, "I'd like to see them play together, if you know what I mean." A snigger and the perverted half-lidded look he was sporting left Rin with no doubts as to what Shima was imagining.

"Hey Okumura-sensei," Neko said suddenly, peering up at the building with his eyes obscured by his glinting glasses. Rin had opened his mouth to protest Shima envisioning Shiemi with Kamiki Short-Brows, of all people, but the tone in Neko's voice made him halt. "Isn't this building quite old?"

Yukio blinked down at the bald-headed kid. "Well, yes. It' perfectly functional, but it hasn't been occupied since the new dorms were completed."

"That means you don't know how many…oh, I don't know, spiders or termites…have moved in since then, right?"

The blood drained out of Shima's face quicker than Rin had ever seen. The pink-haired teenager laughed nervously and started to slowly push himself off the ground with what seemed like as little skin contact he could manage. "Um, Neko, you joker you, you don't mean that seriously, do you?"

Rin caught the quick smirk on Yukio's lips and started to snigger. "Well," his brother said, adopting a look of nonchalance, "there are undoubtedly spiders on the premises, just because of how aged the building is. It's easier for bugs to get in, and their webs are less likely to have been disturbed because of the lack of traffic."

Shima made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and shot to his feet, staggering forward to clutch onto Yukio's jacket. "Please," he moaned, almost sobbing, "please please please just let us do this cram study session somewhere else please."

"Unfortunately," Yukio intoned, "rescheduling at such short notice is impossible."

Takumi snorted and shifted so that his broken leg wasn't at such an awkward angle. "You are such a wimp."

"It's bugs!" Shima wailed, tears pouring down his face. "Okumura-sensei, I don't think I can do this! I—I'm going to go back to the nice, spider-less bug-free haven called my dorm." He straightened and then turned to dash off.

Rin stepped in Shima's path, but he wasn't the one who stopped him from absconding. Not three steps after taking off, Bon had snatched at and caught the back of Shima's T-shirt.

"Hey! You're not getting out of this, you promised us that you would take the study test!"

The tears began anew. "Mercy, Bon, have mercy!"

"Suck it up, you pansy. Bugs can't hurt you."

Yukio smiled, and Rin felt shivers crawl down his spine even though it wasn't aimed at him. "Shima-san, you already signed the participation agreement form. I'm afraid that I won't be able to let you leave without your absence causing enough damage to your grade to hold you back."

The laugh barked out of his chest, short and sharp, and Rin grinned wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. As Bon let go of a suddenly limp Shima, Rin reached over and patted his roommate on the shoulder. "Well, just look on the bright side; now you'll get the chance to face your fears and get stronger because of it!"

Shima's sobs grew louder and he sunk to the ground in a miserable heap.

"Good morning!"

Rin turned his head and saw three of the four—the three real girls of the class just a few meters down the path from the old boys' dorm. He grinned and waved at Shiemi, who returned the favor as enthusiastically as she could with a bulky handbag in her arms.

"This place is so spooky—don't we have anywhere better to do study camp?" Kamiki put her hands on her hips and didn't even acknowledge anybody other than Yukio.

"As I just told Shima-san here," Yukio acknowledged, "it's too late to reschedule the location of the camp. Fortunately, the rooms we'll be studying and staying in were recently cleaned, so you don't have to worry about the dirt."

That short-haired girl that always followed Kamiki Short-Brows around was talking to Shiemi in an undertone, but Rin was distracted by Shima's sudden reenergizing.

"No dirt?"

"No dirt," Yukio replied.

"No bugs?"

"Just because there is no dirt doesn't mean there aren't automatically bugs, Shima," Neko said, frowning a little. "That's not the way it works."

Takumi pushed himself into a standing position, dragging his crutches up with an ease that spoke of far too much practice. "Well, then, let's get on with it," he muttered. "I've gotta catch up someday, don't I?"

The sudden, awful glint in Yukio's eyes had Rin starting to tremble, and the voice that came out of his mouth was just too sweet for the elder Okumura's liking. "Good attitude, Hisoragi-san. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish!"

Rin could already feel the headache starting.

* * *

><p>All her dreams and hopes were crashing down around her as she stood in front of Kamiki-san, listening almost without hearing. She could feel her fists trembling at her sides as she tried to figure out where she had gone wrong.<p>

"After all," Kamiki-san said, smiling, "I wouldn't feel comfortable with you staring at my naked body. It would be too awkward."

Why? Why would it be awkward? Friends…didn't friends wash each others' backs and gossip about cute boys? Didn't they feel comfortable around each other? She felt comfortable around Rin. Why wouldn't it be like that?

"A friend would understand."

Shiemi felt frozen, as though there was something gripping her fast and keeping her from moving. Even Nii's warm weight on the top of her head didn't help remove the paralysis from her body. All she could do was let out a weak, trembling, "B-but…"

Kamiki's cute eyebrows drew up into a concerned expression, and her face softened. "Oh, that's right, you might get bored. If you do, get me a fruit milk for when I'm done with my bath—that should occupy you long enough right?"

Behind her, Paku looked worried and upset, but Kamiki just turned around and headed into the bathroom, her beautiful long hair flowing behind her in its customary pigtails.

Shiemi's hand reached out towards her two friends, and she felt another 'but' or a 'wait' form a dense ball in the middle of her chest. By the time it felt brave enough to go out into the world, the other two girls had already entered the bathing room.

The door slammed shut. The noise echoed around her, and the acceptance she wanted to voice simply wasn't coming out.

_What did I do?_ She asked herself. _Was I too overbearing? Was I not friendly enough? No, I helped Kamiki-san do whatever she had to, I made sure I wasn't a burden, I smiled and enjoyed their company._

_ So what did I do to deserve this?_

"Shiemi?" Belatedly, she realized that there was somebody behind her, and that they were coming closer. "Hey, what're you doing?"

It was Rin. Tears threatened to well up in her eyes, but she pushed them back in her determination not to cry at everything, to be strong.

"It—It's nothing. I gotta go buy fruit milk." She turned and tried to slide past Rin, a lump in her throat and a sinking feeling in her chest. _Do they not want to be friends?_ _What—what am I doing wrong?_

_Rin was never this hard to befriend._

"Oi!" His hand gripped her just under the elbow and stopped her from moving forward. She didn't try to break away, as upset as she was. She just let him hold her arm, head turned away so that he didn't see the expression on her face.

"…yes?" she asked, too choked up to say anything longer. _Don't cry don't cry don't cry it's weak to cry isn't it?_

"Would you just—stop doing that!" Rin shouted, and she imagined his expression. Angry. Worried. Upset. How the skin between his eyebrows would crease and the smile would vanish from his eyes. It wasn't a look she liked imagining.

The word was hard to force out of her throat, and Nii-chan squeaked above her. "That?"

"You're acting like Kamiki's bi—I mean," he said, and she heard the frustration and embarrassment enter his voice as he edited what he was going to say, "you're being an errand runner! It's really weird!"

_You're acting like Kamiki's bi—_bitch. That's what he thought? It was like a punch to the gut. She wasn't doing that, she was just being—she was just being a good friend!

"I'm not!" she protested, whirling around to face him. His face was just like she had imagined it—except that he was wearing that silly clip that Suguro-san had given him. "I'm just helping a friend!"

"You're not helping her!" he yelled, and she noted absentmindedly that his hand was trembling around her forearm. "Do you really think you're helping her? Give me a break! You know that she's just using you!"

"That's not right!" Shiemi screamed back, suddenly angry at Rin, angry at Kamiki-san, angry at herself. "That's not right at all!"

His own fruit milk—banana flavored, if the yellow color said anything—dropped to the floor as he lunged forward and grabbed her shoulder. The grip of his fingers, the way they dug into her skin even with the kimono in the way—it scared her. "Quit doing this to yourself!"

"I'm not!" her voice was still raised, and she felt Nii puff up on top of her head.

He tugged her closer so that both hands were wrapped firmly around her shoulders. "I may be new to this whole friend-making thing," he growled, "but do friends treat their friends like Kamiki's been treating you?"

"I—I'm sure she just needs help!"

"Her? Need help? She's not sick or hurt, so she can carry and buy her own damn shit!"

It burst out of her before she could control it. "I'm always being helped by somebody, and I hate it! Maybe it just feels good to help somebody, did you ever consider that?"

Rin started, and his fingers tightened for one moment before they loosened, but she didn't break away.

"I just want to be strong! I like helping others!" _I want to be like you_, she thought. _I want to be like you, like Yuki-chan. I don't want to be weak._

He stared at her for a moment, and then his hands fell down to his sides. "And—and that's good, Shiemi. You're doing good. But Kamiki Short-Brows doesn't deserve to be helped by you."

_Yes she does_, she thought. She almost said it too, and opened her mouth to do just that, but what popped out was "Does that really matter?"

After a few blinks, Rin looked at her almost as though he hadn't seen her before. He was quiet for a while, and then he looked down at the ground and started shaking.

"Rin?"

He didn't answer.

Shiemi started to panic. What if he was having a seizure? She wasn't sure why he would have one, but seizures were a lot of uncontrolled shaking, weren't they? _What if he's going to die_ blew through her mind like a strong typhoon wind, and she felt her heart seize up.

"Rin!" She surged forward and gripped his shoulders, a strange parallel of the position they'd been in minutes before. "Rin, are you okay? What's going on?"

After a wheezing breath, he lifted his face. The relief she felt when she finally saw the grin he was sporting paled in comparison to the angry worry that gripped her a split second later.

She huffed and placed her fists on her hips. "Rin! That scared me!"

Rin didn't look admonished in the slightest as he pulled her into a hug. "Shiemi, you're really cool, you know that?"

The flush on her cheeks was probably as red as it was that morning, she thought absentmindedly. "T-thanks," she squeaked out. Nii-chan patted her on the head, and she giggled a little. _This…this is what friends usually do, right?_

Maybe girl-friends were just different. Or maybe Rin was weird. Either way, Shiemi was happy that Rin was her friend, even if she had just screamed her heart out at him.

"But seriously," he groaned, and put some more distance between them so that he could look her in the eye, "Kamiki is taking advantage of you. I mean, I guess she doesn't deserve any less help than anybody else, but you know, she's also kind of…well…being a bitch to you."

Shiemi pouted. "No she's not."

"Okay, fine, she's being Kamiki to you. But she—oh, you don't deserve to be treated the way she's treating you. It's just—"

A scream pierced the air, so close and so unsettling that the hair on Shiemi's neck stood on end and Nii-chan burrowed down further into her hair. She and Rin looked towards the girl's bathroom.

"Kamiki-san!" She cried, and took a step towards the far door. "Paku-san!"

Rin dashed past her, yelling a quick "Get Yukio! Now!" as he pushed the swinging door open with enough force that the hinges made a sharp cracking noise.

But she didn't run. She stood there for a second, thinking _but they're my friends_ and _I want to protect them too_ and _he doesn't even like Kamiki, but he doesn't think twice about saving her._

_ I want to be like that, _Shiemi thought, and clenched her fists by her sides in determination. _I want to be able to not think and just do. I want to be like Rin. _She lifted her chin, and took a step forward towards the baths.

"_Get Yukio!"_

Shiemi stopped. Rin was—Rin trusted her to get help. She hesitated a second longer, wanting so much to just follow Rin in that door and help right away, but turned on her heel and broke into as fast of a sprint as she could manage with her kimono.

They were all counting on her—Paku-san, Kamiki-san, Rin—to go get the teacher and make sure that everybody was safe, and she would not let them down. She wouldn't.

"Nii!" Nii-chan squeaked from his perch in her hair as she turned the corner, but she overestimated how much room she had in her kimono and tried to stretch her stride too far. She lost her balance and fell to the ground, skidding against the wooden floorboards and scraping up her hands.

"Ow!" she snatched her hands back from the wood and looked at the mess of scrapes and splinters. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back and stood again, knees trembling. Her chest heaved with the need for more air, and her obi wasn't helping matters much in that respect. _I hurt_, she thought, and for one brief, horrible moment, she considered quitting. It's not like she was going to make much of a difference—she wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast or talented enough to turn the tide.

Then she thought of Rin's face when she declared their friendship, when he jumped into the mouth of a Reaper for Suguro-san, when he threw himself into a girls' bath room and asked for her help. She thought of him and Kamiki-san and Paku-san, broken and bleeding and dead because she couldn't do something as simple as get Yukio's help. Because she gave up.

_They need me. They're counting on me_. She exhaled, harsh and quick through clenched teeth, and then stood up straight. Hands on her hips, she forced one foot in front of the next, building up speed until she was sprinting again. Shiemi flung herself around the corner, made the few quick strides to the open door of the study room, and then slammed a stinging hand on the doorframe to get the attention of her classmates.

The boys there looked up from where they were grinning and joking around—even Hisoragi-san had a bit of a smirk on his face—with startled eyes.

"Yukio," she gasped out, hands on her knees and lungs screaming for air. Her left hand throbbed quicker and harsher than her right, but that was to be expected—she had smacked it against the wood of the doorframe. "Yukio, help."

He was in front of her after she had exhaled three times, and his steadying hand was on her shoulder the breath after. "What's wrong?"

"Kamiki-san, Paku-san, they screamed, and Rin went," she sucked in another gulp of air, harsh against the back of her throat, "went to help." Shiemi vowed to work harder next gym period, and even considered asking Rin if he could help her get stronger. If that wasn't too burdensome, at least.

"Where?" Yukio's voice was sharp, but his eyes were keener still. All Shiemi could see were those eyes, a touch lighter than his brother's but just as vibrant.

"Baths," she said, exhaling through her nose and inhaling through her pursed lips just like Tsubaki-sensei had taught her.

Her familiar hunkered down in her hair again. "Nii!"

For a moment, astonishment stalled Yukio. "He—he went into the girls' what?"

The frustration with everything crawled up Shiemi's throat and vibrated past her teeth. "Just come!" She reached out and snagged the hand at his side before whirling around and dragging him out the door.

"Sh—Shiemi-san!" he yelped, stumbling a little behind her and tugging his hand out of her grasp. She didn't stop. "Maybe you should stay behind? Your palms are bleeding."

"Hurry! Rin needs your help!" was all she said in response, and she was surging through the decrepit hallways of the old boys' dorm again. After a few seconds spared to yell at the boys to stay put, Yukio was on her heels. Within moments, however, he'd caught up to her and was matching her pace.

"Do you know anything else about the situation?"

She shook her head and willed her feet to move faster, cursing the fact that she was wearing her stupid _zori_ instead of the more comfortable looking shoes that Paku-san and Kamiki-san wore. "Rin ran in right away. I didn't get to see anything."

The ache was creeping up her legs and spreading its fingers through her chest again, but she did her best to ignore it as they rounded the last corner and barreled towards the bathroom door. _I'm coming, _she thought. _I'm coming_.

"I'll take the lead now, Shiemi," Yukio said as he pulled his pistol from its holster. "Stay behind me."

Shiemi nodded and slowed into a walk as her crush pulled ahead and switched to a sort of sliding step that allowed him to cover ground and be quiet at the same time. With his gun's muzzle pointed at the door, Yukio pushed it open just a little bit.  
>A strangled, decidedly masculine yell sounded out, followed soon after by Kamiki-san's voice reciting her summoning chant. It felt frantic and scared, and Shiemi swallowed back at the sudden lump in her throat. Yukio pushed the door open the rest of the way and rushed in, gun held in both hands and back tense through his white office shirt. She followed right behind him, wringing her hands as she took in the situation.<p>

"Paku-san!" She gasped, hand moving up almost reflexively in horror. The girl in question was lying limp on the ground. Her uniform was dirtied and ragged, especially around her upper arm. In front of her stood Kamiki-san, hand clenching one of the summoning arrays and held out away from Shiemi and Yukio. She whipped her head around, and Shiemi saw the fear and desperation flash in her eyes before sudden relief.

"Okumura-sensei!" Kamiki-san breathed out, the tone shuddery and not at all like her confident self.

Then her eyes met Shiemi's, and it was like she froze. Her _byakko_ were in front of Kamiki-san in a flash, looking suddenly about thirty times as feral as they had before. They seemed regal, poised, and elegant before, but now—with their teeth bared and eyes wide and noses wrinkled up into heavy snarls—Shiemi was reminded that they were demons.

"You," one snarled, "your wavering heart…"

"Is not worthy of our aid!" They tensed, powerful leg muscles rippling and coiling underneath their unearthly white fur. Kamiki-san's eyes widened and she held out a hand as if it could ward them off. "No, don't!"

Yukio took aim and fired two warning shots only centimeters from the _byakko_s' paws. They turned their wide, manic eyes on him, and Shiemi gulped in fear.

"The circle!" Yukio yelled, gun still trained on the turned summons. "Rip it!"

Something slammed into the ground, and Shiemi glanced over to her left. Rin was rolling to the side on the ground as a huge ghoul—like the one Neuhaus-sensei had summoned earlier—struck the tile where the elder Okumura had been laying a moment earlier.

"Rin!" Shiemi cried even as the _byakko_ burst into plumes of white smoke and steam, two halves of a summoning circle clenched in Kamiki-san's hands from where she'd sunk to her knees. She looked small and frail, and not at all like she usually did.

In the end, though, it wasn't her shaking, half-naked form that prompted Shiemi to move towards her. It wasn't even Paku-san's prone figure lying on the floor, shirt disintegrated at the shoulder. It was Yukio, letting out a short curse and pausing with indecision. It was Nii-chan's weight on her head.

She could do something.

No, she would do something.

"Go help Rin!" Shiemi cried, and rushed forward to Kamiki-san and Paku-san. She dropped to her own knees by their sides and inspected the burn marks on the short-haired brunette's upper arm, took note of the sweat beading on her forehead. "This looks like a burn…" she murmured, and glanced up at Kamiki-san.

"Ghoul's temptaint," she replied shortly, crouched over so that as little skin was showing as possible. She looked unsettled, off-balance—almost like she was going to dissolve into sobs. Shiemi knew that that was a very bad thing. "It's going to necrotize in minutes!"

Shock sparked down her spine, and she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. "Then—then," she stammered, horrified and worried and scared, "if we don't get her emergency treatment now—"

Gunfire sounded across the room, and a split second later there was the sound of shattering glass and grunts of pain. "Nii-san!" Yukio screamed, and the fright in his voice nearly stole Shiemi's attention away, but Kamiki-san chose that moment to let out a loud, hysterical sob.

Shiemi forced herself to trust in Yukio and Rin to make it out of their situation alive, and looked down at the one thing she had some modicum of control over. Maybe. "The best thing for a burn is Sancho!" She exclaimed, tracing the contours of the wound with her fingertips. The skin felt fever-hot and was redder than the rest, just as she suspected. Even if this was a Mashou, if she had Sancho, it might stop Paku's arm from degrading long enough for Yukio to administer proper first-aid.

Kamiki-san let out a startled "What?" as Nii-chan bounced off her head and started trembling mid-air with a long, drawn out squeak. She reached to give him something to land on—he really was an adorable summon, and she didn't want him to be hurt—when, out of the blue, a plant sprouted from his belly!

"Sancho-chan!" She cried, Nii-chan's reassuring weight now settled firmly in her palms. She loved the grassy, mossy feel of his skin against her own. It reminded her of long days in the garden with her Grammy, of time spent talking and laughing and the feel of her feet against the earth before the unfortunate possession. "Nii-chan, you're amazing!"

"That's aloe!" Kamiki-san screeched. She didn't seem like she was going to cry anymore.

Shiemi ran her hands up the thick, firm leaves of the Sancho protruding from Nii-chan's stomach. "May I?" she asked, bending over so that she could better look Nii-chan in the eye. He smiled at her and chirruped, his own stumpy arms reaching up to ruffle the leaves himself. It was a clear sign of permission.

She slid her fingers down to the base of the plant before breaking one leaf off and digging into the open base with her thumbs. Shiemi pulled the leaf apart so that the flesh was open to the air, the juice cool and soothing against her skin, and then she placed the two halves flesh-side down on Paku-san's angry-looking arm. A moment passed, and then the strained expression on Paku-san's face eased just a bit.

She looked up at Kamiki-san, whose face had regressed into self-loathing and guilt and fear. What struck Shiemi most of all, however, was how deeply her helplessness was etched into the corners of her eyes and the folded crease in the middle of her (really adorable) eyebrows. It reminded Shiemi of herself.

A sharp, efficient twist and snap of one of Sancho's leaves later, Shiemi held the bit of plant out to her fellow classmate and first female friend. "Do you want to help?"

Startled, Kamiki-san looked at her, purple eyes wide and confused. "Huh?"

"Here!" Shiemi leaned over and pointed the broken end of the Sancho towards Kamiki-san so that she could see. "What you have to do is dig your thumbs into the open end of the Sancho—"

"Aloe," Kamiki-san corrected, but she was focusing on Shiemi's hands with a concentration and awareness she'd never before awarded the other girl.

"Aloe," Shiemi agreed for agreement's sake, and continued on. "Dig your thumbs in there, and then you have to pull them apart—but gently!" She started to split the Sancho leaf, but slow so that Kamiki-san could see everything. "You have to slide your fingers up the leaf. Keep pressure going towards the end of the leaf. See?"

She worked up the leaf, hands almost caterpillaring up the length until it was separated into two ragged halves. Smiling, she lay them down on Paku-san's arm. "You have to put the inside part down so that the fluids have a chance to help her skin and muscle. Sa—Aloe is a soothing agent with lots of good properties, but none of them will work if you only expose her to the waterproof skin!"

Kamiki-san pursed her lips as she hugged her knees. She stuck a hand out after a second and looked to the side, a blush on her cheeks. "Give me one."

Gunfire rat-a-tat-tatted off in the other portion of the baths, where the fight had progressed. Some of the dividing wall wasn't there anymore, Shiemi noted when she glanced up, so something had obviously happened to it—hopefully, it wasn't anything like Rin or Yukio being thrown through it.

"Okay!" Shiemi twisted another Sancho leaf off of the shoots growing from Nii-chan's tummy and handed it over to Kamiki-san. The girl in pigtails seemed to regain just a little bit of her confidence as she worked her thumbs into the meat of the plant, careful to keep the halves more or less even.

A roar of anger distracted her for a second, but she stubbornly stuck with trying to keep Kamiki-san from feeling all depressed.

"If they don't come completely apart," Shiemi added, snapping off her own leaf, "it's okay. We want to make sure that Paku-san doesn't hurt as much as quickly as possible, after all!"

Metal sung and scraped through the air, and Shiemi felt a subtle press of power pass through her chest. A glance at Kamiki-san told her that the other girl had felt nothing of the sort.

"THAT'S RIGHT, BASTARD, YOU LEAVE HIM FUCKING ALONE!" Rang out a split second later. The smashing and crashing of broken glass and splintered wood and a scrabbling of claws later, everything was more or less silent. Shiemi lay the halves of the Sancho leaf she'd pulled apart right next to the ones Kamiki-san had just finished and laid on her friend's arm, almost reverently.

"What the hell happened in here?"

Shiemi looked up and blinked at the sight of the male members of the cram school (those who'd shown up for the extra sessions, at any rate). "Um," she started, really eloquently, a little distracted by how stupidly happy and dazed Shima-san looked.

"Shiemi-san!" Yukio called out, and her head snapped back to look in his direction. "How is Paku-san?"

"I…I think she's okay!" Heart pounding in her chest, she told herself that this wasn't really bragging. Was it? "Kamiki-san and I put some Sancho on her!"

"Aloe!" Kamiki-san hissed, and she looked a lot redder than usual. Did she have a fever too? She also turned her face to the side in a short, abrupt swing, and Shiemi could no longer see it.

She didn't look dizzy or sweaty though, so Shiemi just put it out of her mind and echoed her, a nervous little grin tugging at her lips.. "Aloe! Haha, sorry. I put aloe on her." Nii-chan reached over and patted her on the hand, almost as if he sensed her worry.

Yukio made his way over, a bruise forming on his cheek and a slight limp in his step. A ways behind him, Rin emerged from behind what remained of the partition. He looked far more roughed up than his brother did, and his movements were stiffer. Despite that, there was a similar grace in how he walked, and Shiemi absentmindedly realized that she heard next to no sound as he placed his feet on the ground.

He had the dancer's feet that she always thought Yukio would have—but no, while Yukio moved quietly, it wasn't the same quality of silence that Rin's strides held. She could hear glass crunching under Yukio's heavy soles, and the floorboards creaked as he crouched down to take a look at Paku-san's arm.

"This was well done, Shiemi," he murmured even as Rin made it to their side. If she concentrated, she could hear the glass bend and squeak under Rin's weight, but there was no groaning of wood. "A ghoul's temptaint can be deadly, so you probably saved her life."

"Oi, quit staring!" Shiemi glanced up to see Rin—suddenly shirtless, she realized, her face flushing with such heat that she thought that maybe this time she'd burst into flames—standing in front of them, stance solid and arms crossed in front of him. His shirt had been draped over Kamiki-san's head, but she hadn't moved to put it on yet. "That's rude as hell!"

"Was she—" Suguro-san started, but clammed up abruptly for some reason that Shiemi couldn't see. He averted his face, and then shoved both Shima-san and Hisoragi-san in the sides when they didn't follow suit.

"Indeed," Yukio said, drawing Shiemi's attention back to him. Her crush then started to pull out a roll of bandages from his pants pocket. "This will do until I can access better medical supplies. Shiemi-san, would you like to help me?"

She opened her mouth to decline, worried that her good luck would fail her and clumsy-Shiemi would return, but there was a sudden tension on the bottom of her kimono that made her look down.

Paku-san looked up at her with pain-hazed, half-lidded eyes. "Thank you," she mumbled, a tired, grateful smile tugging at her lips, "Moriyama-san."

Next to her, Kamiki-san had tugged the shirt on, pulling it over her knees so that less was on display. She reached a hand over, but it hovered above Paku-san's shoulder, and she had this hesitant look in her—had she been crying?—eyes.

"Mm!" Shiemi agreed, and then reached over to gently push Kamiki-san's hand down onto Paku-san's uninjured arm. Kamiki-san glanced up at her, red-rimmed eyes wide. "It wasn't a problem. Besides, Kamiki-san helped me too!"

Paku-san blinked, and then smiled again. "I'm glad. Thank you." She glanced up at Kamiki-san, whose eyes were still the biggest Shiemi had ever seen them, and then let out a sigh as she fell unconscious.

Something settled in Kamiki-san's expression, and she suddenly seemed a lot calmer as she rested her hand on Paku-san's shoulder a little more heavily, a little more comfortably than she had just a bit ago.

"Shiemi-san?" Yukio asked, and Sheimi looked back at him, and then down at the roll of white bandages in his hands.

_Do I want to be an exorcist?_ She suddenly thought. _Do I really want to be?_

When she looked at Paku-san, at Kamiki-san, at Rin and Yukio and everybody else—everybody who knew what they were doing, who knew what they wanted, she wasn't sure. But as long as she was there…

"I'm ready! Please show me."

She'd do her best to keep her friends safe.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Update 8/20**

I'm going to update **September 28th**! After that, we'll see if I can keep at a 1.25 pace or if I really need more space between chapters. See you then!


	15. Wahrnehmung

**A/N: **Update Day, as promised!

Regarding how much I've written: Ha. Ha. Ha. This semester is even more stuffed than I thought it would be, and the more I have to do, the less I want to do anything of a productive nature. Which means Chapter 20 has fallen to the wayside. I can see about maybe working on it during Midsem in October, but...yeah.

Next update will be **November 2nd**. I can't go a week earlier because I haven't been able to find the time or the effort to write, so the wait will be just as long as it was for this chapter.

Also! I set up a tumblr that, if you want, you guys can check out maybe once a week or once a month for little updates or specials. It's at .com. I also have a link in my profile page set up if you'd prefer to go there.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter Fifteen: <em><span>Wahrnehmung<span>_

(Perception)

.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing over the phone. "What?"

"There was an attack," Yukio told him, voice tinny as it came through the speakers. "I can't tell if it was organized or not. The fact that it was only one relatively low-level ghoul doesn't point to a plan of any kind, but…"

"It was a Naberius," Fujimoto concluded, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Of all things, a _Naberius_. He sucked in a deep breath, and then let it out, feeling as though he had even more silver in his already gray hair. "Any casualties?"

"Negative." At least there was that. "One of the students was injured—Paku-san, if you remember the short-haired brunette from Demon Pharmaceuticals—but Rin and I handled the rest of the altercation. The students were otherwise kept out of the line of fire."

Fujimoto bit the side of his mouth. This was tricky—they weren't exorcists yet, and they shouldn't be exposed to this kind of danger until their test. Never mind that the whole study session was set up to carry the test, the fact was that nothing was supposed to happen last night. "Temptaint?"

Yukio hummed an agreement. "It showed signs of minor necrosis when I was finally able to treat it properly, but Shiemi was able to stave off a lot of the damage with her quick thinking. If she doesn't go for medic on her own, I might have to push her in that direction."

"Does she even know if she wants to be an exorcist?" Fujimoto had seen the girl, and she didn't seem to be the type fit for such work—there was a lot of pain and loss that came with the job, and he wasn't sure if she could handle it.

"No," Yukio said. "But she's got a great deal of talent, and she can be as stubborn and brave as Rin when it comes to it."

Fujimoto whistled. "That good?"

"She's quite surprising. Plus," The speaker thumped and crackled a little as Yukio presumably switched the phone to his other ear, "she was able to pull a summons out of nowhere, and you know how rare they are at this age."

Well then, that changed things. "Try to keep her in, if you can," Fujimoto said. "If she wants to leave, then let her, but do your best to give her some positive encouragement in terms of joining the Exorcism community. We could use somebody with her skill and her attitude." _Somebody who likes Rin,_ he thought, and tried to fool himself into thinking that it wasn't the main reason he wanted her to succeed Cram School.

Yukio chuckled. "I'll do my best, but I think that Rin would stand a far greater chance with that than I. He's a good influence on her."

"Whatever you can do is good enough for me. Anything else to report?"

"Not at all. Everybody seems to be doing fine, except…are you sure that Hisoragi Takumi is ready to take the Esquire Exam?"

Fujimoto's eyebrows lifted upwards. "I didn't know he was planning to do so."

"Ah. That didn't seem like a move you would make. Hisoragi Takumi said that he was told to just enter the additional study lessons, and figured that it would help him catch up on the material he missed. Seeing as he was ordered to do so, I figured that you were behind it."

He closed his eyes and rubbed at his hairline. "Mephisto."

There was silence on the other end.

"Thank you for letting me know, Yukio. There's not much we can do about it now except make sure that he's as ready as possible. Does he stand a chance?"

"Barely. As you know, his scores in Demon Pharmaceuticals are surprisingly decent, but in his other classes, they're…worse than Rin's."

Ouch. "He's not the classroom type either, then."

His son coughed a little, as if he was holding back a laugh. "That's unlikely, yes. And seeing as his injury limits him to theoretical work only, he's not able to make up for his weaknesses with whatever physical strengths he has."

"If nothing else, just see how he responds—if there's a brain up there or not, if he's got the guts for this or not, et cetera. At least the other students will have some experience in protecting a wounded teammate on the field by the end of all this." Fujimoto played with the pen on his desk, rolling it from side to side. "Naturally, ensure that nobody dies, understood?"

Yukio scoffed. "Who do you take me for, Shura-san?"

"You'd best make sure she didn't hear you say that," the Paladin pointed out. "She'd have your head for that."

"Understood." There was still some humor in his youngest's voice, but he didn't pursue the issue any further. "Anything else I need to know about?"

Fujimoto thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, not really. Other than the fact that Rin wanted to go out with us to sukiyaki on Friday—I've been doing my best to get the paperwork done ahead of time."

"I know, he's been pestering me about not assigning as much homework that day. I'll see you Friday at the latest then, right?"

"Mm-hmm." He picked the pen up and twirled it between his fingers, looking at the stack of paperwork stacked as high as the length of his hand and cursing it mentally. "If that's all, then?"

There were voices in the background, and Yukio chuckled. "I would say yes, except there's somebody here who wants to talk to you, I think."

If Fujimoto concentrated, he could hear Rin in the background. "Is that the old man? Oi, spotty four-eyes, gimme the phone, you've been gossiping on it for hours already!"

"How would you know? You just came in."

A chuckle pulled itself out of his chest. "All right, then, I'll see you Friday, Yukio. Pass the phone on to the squirt."

Yukio snorted, and the phone crackled and thumped as the phone passed from one brother to the other.

"I'm not a squirt!" Oh, Rin.

"Says the shortest one in the abbey." Fujimoto felt a smile tugging on his face, but switched the subject—if Rin was allowed to discuss this topic, he wouldn't stop. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

In the background, he heard Yukio warning Rin that they had about five minutes left if they wanted to get to class in time.

"I'm not allowed to say hi just for the heck of it? Dude, I'm not even going to see you today 'cause you're being a lazy ass and skipping."

"Well," Fujimoto said, looking down at the stack of paperwork in front of it and swearing at its very existence, "that's one perk of being Paladin."

"Ha! Just you wait then old man, I'll become Paladin and you'll be the one stuck inside working all day!"

Fujimoto laughed then, deep-throated and hearty.

"What? You makin' fun of me?"

"Rin, you have no idea…"Fujimoto considered telling Rin what exactly he was stuck doing, but decided against it. He'd have the last laugh if Rin did end up becoming Paladin. Anyways…"Where's Kuro?"

There was a pause. "Where did that come from? Why, d'ya need him for some mission or something?"

"Nothing like that, no. I just wondered if you'd been neglecting him for your new found friends." While that was a very small concern, it wasn't why he was asking.

"They—I—um…" Rin paused. "Nevermind. I'm not neglecting him—he just said he was out hunting last night, which is why he's not here right now."

That was problematic. "Do you know if you could call him back?"

Rin huffed. "I could try, but it's not for sure. Why, do I need him or something? He comes back at night, and I told him where I was going."

There was a muffled shout from the other end. "Rin! We've got to go now!"

"Ah, sorry old man, gotta cut it short." Rin laughed a little. "See you Friday?"

Fujimoto shook his head. "Wouldn't miss it, even if my wallet thinks it's a bad idea. Remember Kuro!"

"Yeah, yeah," Rin said, and Fujimoto just knew that he was rolling his eyes. "I'm hanging up!"

"Right then. Have a good day."

The line went dead.

But the peace and quiet that came with it lasted only the span of time it took for Fujimoto to snap his flip-phone shut. The moment he'd done so, there was a knock on the door—a short _rap-rap-rap_ that meant it could be anybody about anything.

"Yes?" Setting the phone down to the side where it was easily accessible, he pulled the next document down to the wooden surface of his desk. "Who is it?"

"Jirou, sir. I have more paperwork."

He bit back a curse and resigned himself to another stack of bureaucracy, hoops, and red tape. "Come in."

At the sight of exactly how much bureaucracy, hoops, and red tape were boxed in by Jirou's arms and chest, however, Fujimoto could not hold back the miserable groan any longer. _I'm too old for this shit_, he thought, and briefly reminisced about the days when all he did was look up girls' skirts and get into fights.

"Sir?"

He looked back up at Jirou's worried face and rubbed across the left side of his face. Damn, he was tired. "Just set it to the side—I'll get to it as soon as I can."

The things he did for his sons.

* * *

><p>Takumi blinked down at the fabric-wrapped bento box that had been stuck right under his nose and wondered what the hell Okumura Rin was up to this time. "Um…"<p>

Okumura shook it. "Just take it! Food's good for getting better, isn't it?"

"Nii-san, while there is some truth to it, it depends on what kind of food Hisoragi-kun is being given." Takumi was too distracted by the blue and white plaid of the cloth to glance over at Okumura-san.

The elder twin groaned. "Yukio! This isn't bad food at all—I made it!"

Even Shima chuckling next to him didn't do much. "I'd take it off of you if Rin were a beautiful young girl offering me her homemade bento, but he's not, so…"

Okumura bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you're shit with cooking," Suguro said. "Like most of us, except Neko here can whip up a mean _onigiri_."

The bento box was dropped, and Takumi managed to catch it only due to ingrained reflexes born out of back-alley fights. He glanced up at Okumura and muttered a thanks, but the short guy wasn't paying attention to him anymore.

"You take that back, I'm a damn good cook!" His face was pushed down so that he was looming over Suguro, who was snarling back without any real tooth. Takumi fiddled with the knot absentmindedly, trying to push down the throbbing of his leg—his pain meds weren't working as well anymore, he mused. But fuck that, asking for a different prescription was for wimps—he was a man, he could take the pain.

"Well then, how come we haven't seen you cook before?"

"He…he does make a point, Rin-san."

If they didn't make a habit of ignoring him when he did so, and if the pain wasn't as low-key as it was, Takumi would have snapped something about everybody shutting up. He didn't, though, and concentrated on undoing the knot of the bento's _furoshiki_—the wrapping cloth.

The cloth came off the bento, and Takumi was surprised to see that the box was wooden. It looked a little old and dull, but it was in rather good condition. He wondered where Okumura got the thing—it wasn't like he'd have them hanging around everywhere.

"It's 'cause I haven't had a kitchen to work in!"

Takumi slid his gaze over to where Okumura-san was watching the drama unfold and eating his own bento—plastic, light green, with some kiddy cartoon character emblazoned on it in faded colors. It was the first time they'd eaten lunch together, but Takumi would bet that he'd eaten many a bento out of that before. There was a light blue one with another one of those childish characters on it, but this one was still snapped shut and he couldn't see inside it. Okumura's, then?

Shima chuckled. "Sorry, Rin, but I can't see you cooking. You're, like, too…I dunno, for it."

"What's wrong with cooking?" The words came out in an almost shriek. For a moment, Takumi seriously considered telling them to be quiet very rudely.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Miwa said, pushing his glasses up in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. "Nothing wrong at all!"

"Just with you," Suguro had to add. Just as Okumura seemed to be cooling down, too, so these words just drew him up and reminded Takumi of an affronted cat.

The wood was still warm under his fingers, so he shrugged and figured that there would be no loss in pulling the top of the container off. May as well see it and say he looked when Okumura eventually turned his attention over to the cripple.

Hah. Cripple. Takumi looked down at his cast and frowned. Keeping his weight off of the thing was sure as fuck more difficult than he thought it'd be at first, and it didn't help that it kept sending out pulses of white-hot pain the last couple hours that his pain meds were supposed to work.

"What's wrong with me cooking?" That was a shriek. They had to be getting some attention now, but Takumi was determined to keep his head down and out of the conflict.

He slid the dented lid off, and gazed upon the food inside.

One blink. Then two. He realized that no, it actually looked more than edible, it looked delicious. Like the stuff Eiko-obachan would make before his parents got sick of each other and said 'screw it' to the whole family thing. Eiko-obachan had stopped sending him to school with a bento a few years later, though, when she'd gotten her own husband, her own kids.

But he wasn't afraid to admit that while her bento were arranged in a more cutesy, _kyaraben_ manner…that the sight in front of him made all memories of her cuisine look like the charred remains of whatever his own Mom tried to cook.

"_Holy shit_," he whispered, mouth dropping open as the mouth-watering scent of a traditional home-cooked meal finally made itself apparent to him. "_Holy fucking shit_."

Nobody seemed to have heard him, but he didn't care. With a shaking hand, he reached for the chopsticks—the cheap wooden ones that you could throw away when you were done with them—and snapped them open. He dimly registered that his mouth was still open and yes, that was drool starting to drip from the corner of his mouth.

"Itadakimasu," he breathed, and then picked up one of the succulent-looking slices of _teriyaki_ chicken. Without any hesitation, he placed it in his mouth, not thinking even once that anything that looked this beautiful could taste horrible.

He was not disappointed.

"Hey, what's that smell?"

Scooping up a bit of rice, he shoveled it into his throat before adding a slice of _umeboshi_. He loved _umeboshi_. In fact, he couldn't stop himself from buying _Hinomaru bento_ when he'd gone a particularly long time without the beautiful pickled goodness. It wouldn't be a long shot to claim that if one gave Hisoragi Takumi _Hinomaru bento_—a tray of plain rice with pickled plum in the middle—every meal for the rest of his life, he would die a very happy man.

The sour of the _umeboshi_ contrasted beautifully against the sweet _teriyaki_ glaze on the chicken, and the rice underneath helped to make the meal filling. It wasn't a terribly simple bento—that honor belonged to _noriben_, where all you had was rice and soy-sauce dipped seaweed—but it wasn't extravagant by any means.

Tears came to Takumi's eyes unbidden as he was overcome by joy. If the price for this kind of food was being around a guy who could burst into flames and took on really freaky demons every other day, then he would gladly pay it a thousand times over. Realizing that his meal was in shadow, he wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes and looked up.

Crowded around him were Suguro, Miwa, and Shima, all staring down at his food with looks of curiosity and—was that desire? _Fuck no_, he thought, and channeled his meanest, ugliest glare at them.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Miwa had the good nature to look away, cheeks flaming and abashed that he'd been drawn into the antics of his friends. Suguro just looked up and over to where Okumura was apparently standing to ask something. But Shima. That damn no-good pink-haired bastard had the audacity to not only ignore Takumi, but stare at his food, drool, and begin to lift a hand to get closer to the food.

_Double fuck no_, he thought, lips curling up in a snarl. "I said, what the fucking shitting hell do you want?"

"There's no need for that language, Hisoragi-kun," Okumura-san said, and it was like he'd been snapped out of a dream. "They only want to see what Rin made this morning, don't they?"

For a moment, Takumi felt abashed at his behavior—who felt that way about a few measly slices of chicken, a bed of rice, and a small pile of _umeboshi_?—but then he noticed that Okumura-sensei had surreptitiously pulled his own plastic box of goodness closer to himself. And if stoic Okumura-san was doing it, then he shouldn't feel any shame in it himself.

"Of course I made it!" Takumi glanced over—one eye still on his bento, mind you—to see Rin with his arms crossed and a scowl still stretched across his face. "What the hell do I have to do for you to believe it?"

"It…Hisoragi was…" Shima muttered, eyes still firmly fixed on the bento held firmly in Takumi's hand. "He was _smiling_. Crying, even!"

"Fuck you too," Takumi grumbled, shoving another mouthful of rice into his mouth. It was a patch that had absorbed some of the delicious sweet _teriyaki_ glaze, and he almost shuddered in delight.

"You sure you didn't snitch it off of the load that Okumura-sensei gets every day?" Suguro seemed to have just a hint of doubt in his voice about that theory, even if he was the one who presented it.

"I made it!"

Shima let out a sob and Takumi looked up, chewing on the _umeboshi_ in his mouth. The pink-haired Aria-wannabe had tears streaming down his face and was crawling towards Rin on his hands and knees. "Rin! Rin! Rin, I believe you, I believe you, just let me have some! You made for us too, right?"

He craned his head back, confident that the perpetually nervous Miwa and the hardass moralist Suguro wouldn't steal from him. After all, what was a meal without a show?

"Um," Okumura said, blinking down at Shima as the latter tugged on his pants. "I didn't think about that, no—usually I just make for Yukio and I."

Shima collapsed into a heap, sobbing and wailing overdramatically. Takumi popped another slice of chicken and a bit of _umeboshi_ in and chewed, content to just watch the waterworks.

"Oh my god Shima," Suguro groaned, and there was the sound of flesh smacking into flesh—facepalm, maybe?

Okumura looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Um. Erm, I. I could make you some tomorrow?"

It was like Shima had an on/off switch for his theatrics. As he opened his mouth, though, there was a familiar shout from the paths beside the patch of grass they were on.

"Takumi? Hisoragi Takumi? Is that really you, you fucker?"

A chill ran down his spine, and even the lingering taste of perfectly prepared _teriyaki_ chicken and _umeboshi_ couldn't stop the fear from forming in the back of his throat. Takumi turned around and looked up, hands clenching around the bento and the chopsticks in his grasp. His shin throbbed, and his nearly-healed ribs twinged just a little.

Striding towards him, one hand in his pants pocket and looking just as much a delinquent in uniform as he did out of uniform, was Shiratori. His hair was still bleached, his ears were still pierced, and on his visible hand were an abundance of rings.

_"They fuck up people's faces more when I punch them this way!"_

He didn't do much more than sit there as Miwa and Suguro turned to face the intruder. "Man, what're you doin' hangin' with all these goons? You know I was gonna attend True Cross, why didn't'cha look me up?"

There were Coal Tars buzzing around him even though he sported no horns, no fangs, no whiplash-quick tail. There were Coal Tars, and Takumi knew what that meant.

It meant that Shiratori Reiji hadn't changed.

Indeed, when he caught sight of the Okumura twins a bit further back, his face twisted up into a scowl. "What the fuck are you two shitheads doin' on my turf? You wanna get a beatin', huh?"

Takumi looked down, not sure how to address the situation. His leg kept throbbing, and all he could think of was the mocking snarl in his friend's (was he now, though?) voice as he stabbed Takumi in the throat with his words.

"I think you should leave…I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name?" Okumura-san had stood—he heard the rustling of cloth as he did so.

"Shiratori Reiji," the delinquent sneered, and Takumi glanced up just in time to catch his former friend's eye. "What the fuck are you playin' at, dude? That's fuckin' Demon Okumura and his wimpy little brother you're sidlin' up to—you don't remember how he punched the gangs' faces in?"

"I…" he started, but Shiratori was on a roll now, and the delinquent stepped forward, the Coal Tars buzzing around his head in agitation. The fear spiked in Takumi's throat.

"Lissen, fucker, you don't remember how you got that cast? That was fuckin' Demon Okumura's fault!"

Miwa chose that moment to speak up. "Excuse me, um, but I'm not sure that—"

There was incredulity in Shiratori's features. There was anger, and pain, and a kind of loss there, but the fury drowned it all out. "This is the shit you go associatin' yourself with these days? Fuckin' dweebs and macho-wannabes an' Okumura scum? What the hell's wrong with you, man?"

The rest of the group was silent, and Takumi set the food aside. He grabbed his crutches, and stood, stone-faced.

"Ah," Shiratori said, relief flicking in and out of his face. "You finally seen what you've been layin' around with these days? Dude, if I'da known that you were doin—"

"Okumura didn't break my leg." The words were out almost without him wanting them to be, and he could feel his good leg shaking.

Shiratori stopped. "Hah?"

"Okumura didn't break my leg," he repeated, a little louder this time. He looked Shiratori in the eye, and saw the madness under the surface there. "Okumura didn't shove his foot through my shinbone and laugh. Okumura didn't call me weak and pathetic. Okumura didn't fuck me over."

His old friend's eyes were wide, and it was all still very quiet. He was peripherally aware that there were some onlookers, some people paying attention. Shiratori opened his mouth. "What are you—"

"Okumura," Takumi said, voice climbing into a shout, "didn't do any of that shit. What he _did_ do was pull the fucker who I thought was my friend away at his own expense. What he _did _was shove all his shit off the bottom bunk so that I didn't have to deal with fucking ladders." This might start getting embarrassing. "What he _did_ was do his fucking best to make sure that I felt at least a little bit comfortable. What the fuck were _you_ doing then?"

Shiratori's eyes had narrowed. "Now lissen here, punk, I don't remember—"

"I don't know why you don't." Takumi really didn't, that was the truth. "All I know was that it was _my_ friend who fuckin' kicked _my_ fractured ribs just to try to stop my screaming. It was _my _friend who slammed his fuckin' foot into my leg just to get a rise outta some punk kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was _my _friend who pushed on my broken, bleeding leg just to _hear me fuckin' scream_."

He looked pale, and had taken a step back. "Takumi?"

Takumi swung forward, Miwa and Suguro moving to the side as he did so. "I don't know why you don't remember," he said, quieter, dimly aware of the dead silence behind him. "I just know that it takes a fucked-up shithead to do that to their own fuckin' friend. And from what I see…"

He paused, not sure if he wanted to let the words out, and his attention drifted to the Coal Tars buzzing about, a little more sluggish than before. _What the hell_, he thought. _Got this far, might as well go all the way_.

"I don't think you've changed. I don't think I want to take the risk of being your friend. Not when being close means bein' on the ground screaming."

Anger twisted Shiratori's features into a gross parody of how he looked the night he was possessed, but Hisoragi Takumi stood his ground despite his rapidly pounding heart. _Oh god I just pushed him over the edge oh god oh god_.

"You little fucker!" Shiratori snarled and lunged, one fist cocked back and ready to fly, rings glinting in the noon sunlight.

Takumi resigned himself to getting his face screwed over.

But before the blow could connect, Suguro was in the way and his hand had caught Shiratori's fist. "What the hell are you playing at? I thought he used to be your friend."

"Friends don't leave friends to mess around with useless crap like you!" Shiratori wrenched his hand away and tried to dive forward again, but this time it was Miwa who stopped him from going any further.

"I think I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he said, almost calm. "Your antagonistic presence is only compounding a difficult situation, and I'm afraid that Hisoragi-san could experience setbacks in his recovery." The image was almost amusing—this half-pint midget with his hand up in warning, back ramrod straight, trying to stop a much taller much scarier dude from messing with a cripple.

Shiratori growled and met Takumi's eyes. "This is what you're good at now? Hiding? Come on, I thought you were a bigger man than that!"

A hand fell on Takumi's shoulder, and he glanced up to see Okumura-san next to him. "It is not cowardice to allow others more physically capable—at the moment—to deal with physical altercations. In fact, it's rather smart."

There was some tittering going on over by the path, where traffic seemed to have stopped and accumulated. Takumi just looked back at Shiratori.

A part of him wished things could be different. Another part knew that things wouldn't be unless Shiratori did a complete turnabout.

"When you get your shit together," Takumi said, "call me. But until then, I'm not hangin' around a guy who's just as likely to wail on his friends as he is his enemies."

There was a moment where he thought that Shiratori was going to lunge at him again, but it passed. His former friend spit on the ground and sneered, "_Konketsuji_ shit. Never shoulda tangled with you."

Takumi pursed his lips at the old derogatory term for half-blooded Japanese and its connotations of blood impurity. "I like _haafu_ better."

There had been a time when he'd flown into wild rages at the sound of either term. Now, all he did was bristle and more or less ignore the slight. With one last angry glance, Shiratori about-faced and stalked off, yelling cuss words at passerby who didn't move out of the way quickly enough for his liking.

"Show's over!" Okumura yelled out to the audience that had accumulated. "You can go away now!"

As they all left, murmuring and conversing behind raised hands, Takumi let out a sigh of relief and lowered himself back onto the ground, Okumura-san's hand slipping off his shoulder as he did so. His bento box, he was pleased to see, hadn't been disturbed at all by the commotion. God knew he needed something to deal with the stress caused by this incidence.

"What a rude guy," Konekomaru said, still shaking a little. "Using a slur like that. That's awful."

Suguro, though, turned to face the rest of the group, eyes flicking between Takumi's and somebody elses. "You guys knew each other before now?"

"Knew isn't really that…right…" Takumi said around a mouthful of food.

Okumura chuckled. "That—yeah, that's not quite it."

"Demon Okumura?" Suguro's eyebrow was raised.

Takumi gestured wildly with his cheap chopsticks. They were still trembling in his hand, but he was trying to control it. "Like, dude, Okumura there? Craziest fucker in the neighborhood. I knew his fist before I knew his face."

There was a splutter behind him. "You guys were shooting pigeons! Of course I was going to punch you!"

Okumura-san made a vague noise of understanding, and a glance at his face showed it to be both calculating and suddenly wondering. He'd returned to his spot and had bento in hand, even though his chopsticks were currently empty. Speaking of which, so were Takumi's. The situation was immediately rectified.

"And what was up with Piercings over there?" Shima, it seemed, had more or less recovered from his sobfest. Takumi shot him a look, realized that the pink-haired teenager was absentmindedly gnawing on his own lunch from where he was reclined in the grass, and let out a sigh of relief.

"Long story." Okumura laughed nervously and settled in maybe half a meter away from Takumi, positioned so that he was half-facing the cripple of the group and half-facing the path. It was where Shiratori had disappeared into the crowd, and Takumi felt a bit more reassured.

"We have time, I think." Miwa sat down, settling easily into a cross-legged position and resting his hand on his chin. His lunch—some kind of fancy schmancy western-style food that this stuck-up place served at ridiculous costs that he really couldn't afford but had to shell out for—had been left to the side, forgotten. Well, Takumi amended, it hadn't been forgotten by Shima, who was helping himself to seconds.

"It's pretty apparent already, isn't it?" Suguro drawled, also sitting down with a grunt. "I mean, just one look at all those Coal Tars and the stuff about causing pain to hear people scream, and you've got a possession case."

"I guess." With how he was talking around Miwa's share of food, it was a wonder that they could understand Shima. "But you sure he's not just a psycho? Coal Tars could be recent, yanno."

"No," Takumi interrupted. Shiratori, no matter how messed up he was, wasn't that bad without outside influence. _He scares you though_, some part of him said, and he squished that notion down so fast he wasn't sure the thought had existed in the first place. "No, he was possessed. Grew horns and a tail and claws and everything. Okumura drew him off after he broke my ribs."

Okumura-san blinked. "Shiratori broke your ribs?"

Okumura laughed again. "Ha...ha ha, um, no, that was me."

That…Takumi had half expected him to say that, but the tone that he took when pointing out his own superior badassness hadn't been. He blinked at the guy.

"You—a demon was standing in front of you and you broke the human's ribs?" Suguro hadn't started shouting—no-go in public—but the terseness to his whisper spoke volumes about how much he wanted to.

They were all starting to regard the guy with fear, disapproval, and hesitation. Looking at Okumura's dejected and horrified face, however, told Takumi that this was not something that Mr. I-burst-into-flames wanted. It confused Takumi for a moment—if you had power, why wouldn't you want others to fear you? It was always what—

_Wait_. _Wait. Just wait._

It was always what Shiratori did.

He wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, but even he wondered if he should he really be basing his ideas of how Okumura should be acting on the guy who thoroughly trashed him after he was stupid enough to get possessed by some demon. Takumi hadn't thought he'd been dropped on his head as a child, but he was starting to wonder now.

"Yeah, Okumura smacked me in the ribs," Takumi interrupted whatever argument they had started hissing over. "But I was the guy holding him down for Re—Shiratori. I guess he was looking pretty freaky then, 'cause Okumura kinda went wild."

The relief that flashed over everybody's faces—that he could see, at least, 'cause Okumura-sensei was sitting behind him at that point—caused a flash of almost-confusion before he reminded himself that Shiratori was not a good role model after all.

"So, Rin-san just…pulled the demon off of you? That's rather impressive." Miwa pushed up his glasses, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

Okumura's grumble about wanting people to call him by his first name and leave it at that was ignored by the group.

"I…" Takumi frowned, ignoring the twinge of pain in his legs. His ribs were fine these days unless he twisted his torso too far, and he reflected that sleeping on the fractured side actually did more good than he'd expected. "I don't think so. I think he actually…"

What had he done again? Well, exploding into flames was a good place to start, because he remembered that quite vividly, but the rest of it was a little blurry. Apparently trauma did that to you. He opened his mouth to continue.

"He was in a lot of pain," Okumura-san interjected. "Recounting the specifics might be beyond him."

Takumi whirled around, ready to tell his teacher off (that was another really weird thing about the Okumuras) when he saw the look in the younger brother's eyes. They were hard, harder than what he wore when Shima and Okumura goofed off too much in class.

The rice he'd scooped up tumbled back into the bento box and he swallowed every word he was about to say. "Yeah," he agreed instead, a little weak, "that. Um. I just remember they both…ran off and left me alone."

Okumura-san nodded, and the look was gone. "That is unfortunate. Rin, could you fill them in, since they're interested?"

The elder Okumura started off on his rendition of the story, but Takumi couldn't stop looking at their teacher/classmate, mouth just a little open.

"You okay?" Suguro asked, nudging his shoulder with a closed fist. "Pain meds wearing off?"

He could only nod and stare down at the bento box, where a few mouthfuls of rice and chicken lay. There was no _umeboshi_ left.

Suguro clapped him on the shoulder, and then interrupted Okumura's story with a, "You gotta be jerking my leg, that's not possible! We're newbies, there's no way you did any of that!"

"I did too!"

Takumi glanced between the brothers and decided that despite the fact he'd never met Okumura-sensei outside of school and had been on the opposite end of Okumura's attacks several times, Okumura-san was the one he'd prefer not to meet in a dark alley.

* * *

><p>Scripture Recitation was one of Bon's favorite classes. It was also the one he found easiest—not for the lack of effort, but because he pushed himself as far as he could go. He was, after all, the heir to the temple.<p>

So when he was called on to finish Psalm 30 of the Bible after Kamiki couldn't finish it—what was eating her, anyways?—he simply stood, recalled the pages he'd studied last night, and began to speak.

"I will extol Thee, O Lord, for Thou hast lifted me up and hast not made my foes to rejoice over me. O Lord my God, I cried unto Thee, and Thou hast healed me."

It was a very simple verse, all things considered. He'd memorized the whole book of John over the past couple weeks, and that had caused more than a few headaches. Psalm 30? Pssh. Piece of cake.

He closed his eyes, kept himself as calm as possible. Breath in, breath out. He knew the words. "O Lord, Thou hast brought up my soul from the grave. Thou hast kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit. Sing unto the Lord, O ye saints of His, and give thanks at the remembrance of His holiness, for His anger endureth but a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime."

Bon liked recitation a lot. It was calming, soothing, the way his voice went up and down with the feel and cadence of the words. Speaking them felt natural, and he always felt himself focusing, relaxing, finding himself. It was almost like meditation, actually.

"Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. When security fell upon me, I spoke unto the Lord, 'I shall never waver.' Lord, when Thou favored me, Thou made my royal mountain stand firm, but when Thou concealed Thine face, I fell to my knees in dismay. Unto Thee, Lord, I called; unto the Lord I made supplication. 'What profit is there in my blood, when I go down to the pit? Shall the dust praise you? Shall it proclaim your faithfulness?' O Lord, hear and bestow mercy upon me! Lord, come to my aid."

In, then out. Up, and down. Psalm 30 was not one of his absolute favorites, but he didn't mind how the words rolled off his tongue. There was an art in the way an Aria spoke, and it carried over to the words in a way that couldn't be explained. His eyes slid open, half-lidded. The Paladin, for example, adopted a lilting tone sometimes—when he was in class, that was.

Still couldn't believe that Rin was the adopted kid of the bloody Paladin.

"Thou made for me dancing out of wailing, Thou removed my sackcloth and clad me in joy, that my heart may sing Thine praises and not be silent. O, Lord my God, I will give thanks unto Thee forever."

Bon sat down. He felt calm. At peace. Like there was no turmoil in the world. If he could make others feel this way through recitation, then…then yes, he would be proud of being a Meister in Aria.

"Oooh!" Rin started clapping enthusiastically, no trace of sarcasm in his shining eyes. "Dude, you said you were smart, but I didn't realize you were this smart!"

"What do you mean by that?" Bon didn't really mean anything with that statement, though. Rin was…well, he was so earnest about what he said that he couldn't call the other boy anything but a friend.

"Outstanding, Suguro-kun! Perfect!" The teacher gestured with her hands in a smooth arc, and he supposed that Rin had had a point about Exorcists being a really nutty bunch, because she was walking around with a cat on her shoulder and about five different rings on each finger. "Remember, class, Psalm 31 is due next time!"

He felt himself swell with pride, and his eyes creased with a smile. Being an Aria felt so rewarding, so wonderful, but this was a more than welcome side-effect.

The bell rang, signaling a change in subject. Shiemi-san craned her head back at him, the grin on her face wide and the look in her eyes astonished. "That was amazing!"

Bon grinned, feeling like he was on top of the world, and indulged himself a little. "Haha, don't go fallin' for me now—unless you want to, I guess…"

Shiemi-san was probably one of the nicest girls in class, especially now that Paku had quit Cram School. Kamiki was a bit stuck-up and standoffish, and Angelina was just…she seemed really snooty and too-good-for-you, even more than Kamiki. Shiemi-san, though, was bright and tried her hardest—the thin bandages around her hands were a testament to that. He wouldn't mind dating Shiemi-san if she did end up falling for him.

Not that that was all that important, what with his ambition, but it was nice to think about.

"No, no, don't fall for him, fall for me! I'll treat you nicer." This time he would ignore Shima, seeing as they were really just joking around and Shiemi-san didn't seem bothered.

Then Neko spoke up, a smile stretched across his face. "It's not that Bon's smart, he just has a talent for memorization."

The grin froze a little, and he kept looking in Shiemi-san's direction. "Haha, aren't they the same thing, Ko-ne-ko-ma-ru? Or," he added in a hiss, "do you want a clobbering?"

"Ah—of course, Bon," Neko said, but there wasn't any real nervousness in his voice. He knew too well that Bon would never hurt his friend—that he would never hurt any of his friends.

"Is—Is there a trick to memorization?" Shiemi-san asked, and Bon smiled. If she needed help and was asking for it, he was glad to be of assistance.

"A trick?" he mused, and bit the side of his mouth. Did he have one? "Well, I guess that—"

Kamiki's voice cut in, low and derisive. "Memorization is just fake intelligence—it's just showing off!"

"Huh?" What the hell had he ever done to her? He looked over at her and frowned at the haughty look on her face. His good humor faded, he felt the scowl return to his face. "Didja say something?"

"Bon…" Shima murmured in warning, and he felt Neko's hand on his arm.

The pigtailed girl drew herself up and tilted her chin so that it felt like she was looking down on him. "I said," she drawled, "that memorization has nothing to do with intelligence."

He worked _hard_ to be able to do that! Who the hell was she to say otherwise, when she—"Oh? Big talk coming from a girl who can't even remember four lines."

Neko curled his fingers into the sleeve of Bon's shirt. "C-come on, Bon! She's at the top of the class, it's just an off day for her. Could you not antagonize her?"

Didn't mean she had to lash out at him for being able to do what she couldn't!

"It," Kamiki stood suddenly, slamming a hand down on her desk. Takumi jumped in his corner of the room and—_goddammit Takumi_, Bon thought, _you're not going to get any better if you sleep through class!_—looked around. "It's not that I can't remember! I just choose not to! Who wants to be an Aria? They're completely defenseless while they're busy chanting, and their party has to protect them! They're nothing more than baggage!"

There was an ugly, self-satisfied look on her face that made Bon want to punch it off. So he got up, the chair screeching back as it slid across the tile floor. "What the hell was that?" he growled, fists already clenched. Neko and Shima, he realized dimly, had gotten up behind him and were trying to get him to stop. "You know I want to be an Aria!"

"Oooh, I'm so scared!" Kamiki simpered, holding her hands up to the sides of her face, also making her way towards him. "You want to end this with violence? Just what I expected from the guy that looks like a gorilla!"

"Would everybody shut the fuck up?" The snarl came from Takumi, whose eyes looked a little pain-glazed. He was holding himself a little funny, and the worry stopped Bon for a moment. Why hadn't he taken his meds yet? He knew that Takumi had them, but it didn't seem like there were any painkillers in his system.

Then Kamiki stepped closer, her eyes flashing and taunting. "And what are you going to do about it, cripple? Why are you even here—it's not like you're good at anything."

"Fuck you!" Despite the heat in Takumi's voice, he had put his head back on the table, and there was a waver there that Bon didn't like at all.

"You don't know what the hell he's been through!" Bon burst out, slamming his hand on Rin's desk. He thought of the Piercings guy who came by, thought of Takumi's face when he stood up to him, thought of the Coal Tars flitting about the white-haired teen and how he could easily imagine the demonic features on the guy's face. It had scared him a little, had scared him to even think about perpetual-smile-and-awkwardness Okumura Rin facing off against him. He would have shit his pants, and the fact that Takumi was even alive… "What gives you the right to look down on him?"

"Haha, guys, maybe you should take it easy," Rin said with a nervous laugh. He'd been doing that a lot today.

They ignored him. "You want to hit me? Go ahead! It won't actually change anything—like how useless you guys are!"

"I can't stand you!" He growled, feeling as if he was made of wrath and fury and ready to explode. "You an' your habit of steppin' on other peoples' dreams!"

"Just shut up!" Takumi groaned, letting his head fall to the desk with a thump.

"Bon, just let it go!" Shima hissed, and Bon wondered why _he_ had to back down, why _Kamiki_ didn't have to. It didn't seem at all fair, especially because she had started it.

She scoffed. "What, you mean that thing about defeating Satan? Jokes are _meant_ to be laughed at!"

"Oh dear," Neko said, but Bon wasn't about to start throwing punches just yet. He'd give her one last chance—one more chance, and then he'd beat sense into her.

"Well, whattabout you, huh? Why're you tryin' t'be an Exorcist? Go on, tell us!"

For a moment, her eyes widened as if in shock, and he thought he had her. He thought that she might back down. And then her eyes narrowed. "Why?" she asked, her mouth curling into a disdainful line. "I don't tell that to people. I wouldn't expect a show-off like yourself to understand that, though!"

Bon saw red. His hand lashed out and snagged the front of her shirt, her pupils contracting in fear as she did so. He was happy at that—savagely pleased with the knowledge that _she didn't actually expect that_ when her hand blurred out in retaliation.

"Bon! Snap outta it, idiot!" Shima's voice felt like it was coming from underwater and he could barely feel the hand tugging on his arm, restraining it and stopping him from blocking the slap. Before it could connect, though, Rin was suddenly between them, one arm restraining Kamiki's hand, the other pulling Bon's off of her shirt. The pigtailed girl let out an 'ah' of surprise.

"Guys! Seriously, would you not do this?" Okumura snapped, eyes fixed on a point to the right of Kamiki—ah. Oh.

Okumura-sensei pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Anybody mind telling me why there is a fight happening at the front of the classroom?"

Even Bon, who would admit to himself that he admired Okumura-sensei above all other teachers, knew that they were all screwed.

* * *

><p>"Well, class, have you repented?" The cheer in Yukio's voice grated against her nerves, and she wished that she could wrap her elbow around his neck and put him in a chokehold like she had when he was eight (though not as often as Rin). Unfortunately, not only had he grown out of the appropriate size for such things, but it would also be a serious break in character for her.<p>

She'd always hated the Bariyon punishment. Old man Fuji'd always been far too fond of it, and she'd had to sit for hours with the possessed rock on her thighs when she acted out—especially in the beginning, when she'd been no more than a feral wildling, uncivilized and unable to listen. It only made sense that Yukio'd show the same preference for discipline, especially after that display by Rooster-head and Ms. Pigtails.

"Why does _he_ get a chair?" Ms. Pigtails huffed, looking in the direction of their resident cripple—or as Shura liked to call him, Dreadlocks—and glowering. He was in between Moriyama and Pinkie, the resident lecher, and was looking slightly green around the gills. Shura didn't know how much longer he had until his next dosage of meds.

In the spirit of fair treatment, Yukio should have let them all sit in chairs; that much was true. Seeing as the poor kid's pain medication wasn't working properly, though, she didn't blame Yukio for making an exception.

"Because he needs one, and you don't." Yukio was standing in front of the lot of them, fists on his hips and exuding an aura of 'I am in control and you lot would be remiss to forget that'. "And don't argue with me," he added when Ms. Pigtails opened her mouth.

She shut it.

Angel, however, wouldn't let it go. "Why do the rest of us even have to be here? I wasn't even in the middle of that mess!"

At least he had the presence of mind to keep his voice an octave higher than he normally would. Yukio spared him a cold glance—one of the few times that Shura could tell that he actually knew that Angel was a guy—and raised an eyebrow. "It's called collective responsibility, Octavian-san. Does this not exist where you come from?"

The blond—well, _blonde_ to the rest of the class—next to her bit a glossy lip. "It does, sir. Sorry, sensei."

Yukio let out a sigh, and Shura shifted her legs a little. Damn, her ankles had started burning. "Despite the fact that three of you didn't actually show up for it," he glanced at Angel, herself, and Puppet-kid in the corner, "the training camp is supposed to—among other things—deepen the ties between you students."

"But," Ms. Pigtails whined, "I don't want to get along with these losers!"

Rin shot what had to have been a dirty, disbelieving look at Ms. Pigtails, whose face contorted as she let out a 'what?'

"Well, it's a problem if you don't," Yukio said, pushing up his glasses and sounding a bit peeved, "seeing as no exorcist fights alone."

He stepped forward, and Shura rolled her eyes. This had Shirou written all over it, and while she agreed with the sentiment…there were ways to say it more bluntly.

"You must use each other's strengths and balance out their weaknesses. Fighting in parties of at least two is basic procedure for any exorcist. If you were to fall out like this in an actual combat situation, you would face…collective responsibility, shall we say…on a completely different level from this simple punishment."

His face was dark and flat. He'd picked up a lot of the more serious habits that Fuji exhibited, so the resemblance was, simply put, uncanny. She shifted and debated about just throwing the damn Bariyon off, but she was worried about what effect ruining the mood would have on Yukio. Then again, when was she ever worried about _Yukio_ of all people?

"I would like you all to think long and hard about that." Yukio's eyes were hard, flinty.

On second thought, Bariyon could stay for a bit longer. Her ankles were made of steel—no, they were made of titanium!

She glanced to her left and saw Ms. Pigtails look down and bite her lip. Good. It only took a second for things to go SNAFU, as she'd already experienced in her long career as a Knight.

Yukio looked down at his watch and continued speaking. "At any rate, I'll be on a mission for the next three hours."

Ah, the sound of utter despair. It was music to Shura's ears. If only she could have caused it herself.

"Because of yesterday's Naberius incident, I'll be locking and warding all entrances and exits to the dorms."

With great difficulty, Shura restrained her urge to whine in frustration. She'd give anything to be standing in Yukio's place right now, especially as Angel huffed out behind her, muttering something about 'irresponsibility at its finest.' Sometimes, for all that Angel was a superb Knight, he was really dull.

"Locked?" Rooster-head asked, wary. "How're we supposed to get out, then?"

Yukio smiled. A shiver ran down the back of her neck and down the length of her spine despite her having faced many (reportedly) scarier things in the past.

_You know, Rin might be the son of the devil, but Yukio has his smile, I swear_.

"You don't! You guys get to stay here, cool off, and get along with each other until I get back in three hours. Understood?"

Horrified silence met him. The rest of the class might not have, but Shura certainly saw the upwards quirk of the corner of his mouth before he turned and left without another word. As the door shut, Shura was pretty sure she was the only one that saw the black streak that slipped through the crack.

Angel straightened up next to her, and she looked over to see a look of sharp attention on his face. Ah, well, you win some and you lose some. Though she really wanted to know why Kuro was here. In fact, why did Yukio leave if there was supposed to be such danger?

She was missing something. She was really missing something.

"Three hours!" Pinkie groaned, head tipped down and body language screaming defeat. "What is he, some kind of monster?"

"We've been sitting here for thirty minutes already, I can't take this anymore!" Rooster-head's hands were shaking in front of his knees, the prayer beads rattling in his grasp. "Is he even related to you?"

Rin's smile was a bit strained. Shura scowled. He should be better than that—one little Bariyon on his legs shouldn't hurt at all! Why, if she'd known that leaving him be for this amount of time would make him lazy, then she'd have stayed and given him _hell_.

"Yeah," he said, "usually he's a pretty great guy, but…"

Rooster-head sighed. "This is a fine mess we're in—at least we know who's to blame."

_Yes! Cat-fight!_ If she straightened up and looked at them out of the corner of her eye, well…it was justified. No matter how many irritated huffs Angel let out.

"Bon!"

Ms. Pigtails glared at Rooster-head from Rin's right side. "What? You were the brute who manhandled me first!"

"Okumura-sensei told us to get along…"

Angel leaned in to whisper to her, his nails painted an obnoxious, bright glitter-pink. She vaguely remembered forcing the color on him in the morning. It suited him. "These are supposed to be future candidates for Esquire?"

Rin hissed something about not fighting around him. There were tears at the corners of his eyes, and she sighed. Some things never changed. "We weren't any different, yer know."

"Still!" Angel grumbled. "How are they supposed to survive on the field?"

For all that he was a dickwad, Shura mused he could have his heart in the right place. He was just overly bigoted about certain things.

"No wonder people run away from you!" Shura heard, and shrugged her shoulders.

"When push comes to shove," she said, looking back at where Ms. Pigtails had jerked back a little bit, face holding the expression of one suddenly struck where they least expected it, "they'll probably work it out."

"For their sakes, they better," Angel shifted beside her, "because if I have to sacrifice our cover for them, I will be damned if I do it in a skirt and pink nail polish."

Shura opened her mouth, and then the lights went out with a heavy _dadum_. There was a moment of silence.

And then chaos erupted.


	16. Licht in der Dunkelheit

**A/N: **Here it is! Thanks everybody for reviewing, even if I didn't get back to you! Every review either makes me think about what I've written and why I've written it, or it makes me squirm into a happy puddle of glee. Or both. Both is good. 

There's one thing that I'd like to mention before we begin, however. A guest reviewed a few days ago with concerns that this fic is transphobic. The answer is no. No. Never. That is never my intention. Angel being a crossdresser is a point of humor, not a negative criticism at transgender people. Angel isn't (as far as we know) transgender himself, and putting him into women's clothes made sense as a mirroring of Shura dressing in men's clothes. I just use it as a point of dramatic irony for the reader and for not-quite but almost humiliation for Angel. Because you know that should anybody recognize him as snooty Angel in Angelina-disguise, is going to crack their ribs laughing-because it's so out of character for their image of Angel.

I hope that clears things up-my aim is never to be transphobic or homophobic or anything; I don't see the point of acting that way. People are people.

* * *

><p>Chapter Sixteen: <em><span>Licht in der Dunkelheit<span>_

(Light in the Dark)

.

The lights suddenly going off in the dark, damp building that they'd already been attacked in once was probably in the top ten list of 'Scariest Moments of Shiemi's Life So Far.' She found herself in sudden darkness and panicked, attempting to stand up and then toppling over as the weight of the demonic stone pulled her back down. She collided with a warm, hard body and clung to it even as she shrieked a little.

To her left, there was a loud clatter and a harsh gasp of pain, somehow audible even above the crashing and banging of possessed stones falling to the rough wooden floor. She glanced around in the darkness but saw nothing, and felt her heart beat faster against her chest. _Oh no_, she thought, _oh no oh no oh no what's going on?_

"Ah, wait!" somebody muttered, and there was a blinding flash of light. Shiemi recoiled at first, shielding her eyes with one bandaged hand, and blinked rapidly to try and recover from the sudden change.

Everybody was in some state of disarray—for example, Kamiki-san had fallen on top of a red-faced Miwa-san—but what caught Shiemi's attention right away was the overturned chair and Hisoragi-san clutching his side.

"Hisoragi-san!" she gasped, and let go of whoever she was holding on to. Shuffling forward on her knees was all too easy, and reminded her very briefly of those months ago when she wasn't able to walk. Shiemi settled next to his chest and laid a careful hand on his arm. The pressure wasn't enough to smart her already scraped up hands, thankfully. "Hisoragi-san, are you okay?"

"Fuck no," he gasped, face pale even in the low light provided by various cell phones. "Fuck no I'm not. Where—where're the lights?"

"Did Okumura-sensei shut them off?" Suguro-san asked, and Shiemi looked up briefly. Her classmates seemed to have untangled themselves and were in the process of getting to their feet, several of them looking over in her direction with expressions of worry.

Miwa-san pushed up his glasses. "That doesn't seem like Okumura-sensei at all…it must be something else—I think we have bigger things to worry about, though." He came over and squatted next to her. "Takumi-san, can you get up? We can get the chair upright again and you can sit on it to regain your breath."

Sure enough, the color was returning to the dark-skinned boy's face. "I think so," he said, and pushed up a little. The moment after he did, he tensed up and a worrying crease formed between his eyebrows.

"Take it easy," Rin said, suddenly behind them and pulling the chair upright. The demon-possessed stones were still groaning and moaning around on the ground, too young to do anything but lay where they were dumped. "If you need, we can always lift you up."

"Wow." Kamiki-san huffed out, and Shiemi glanced up from Hisoragi-san's horribly, terribly red face. She was standing to the side with her arms crossed. "Shouldn't we be figuring out what's going on instead of catering to the needs of a guy who obviously shouldn't be here?"

For a moment, Shiemi couldn't comprehend how Kamiki-san could have said that—it was so harsh and mean!—but cast it aside. Kamiki-san was her friend, and she must have had her reasons.

"Shut up!" Suguro-san roared, stepping forward and over the fallen Bariyon so that he was towering over the dark-haired Tamer. "Just shut up! He's hurt, we're helping him—I didn't see _you_ doing any better when the lights went out!"

Her cheeks reddened and her eyes fell into mean, mean slits. "I'm right, and you _know_ it," she hissed. "We shouldn't be all fawning over some punk who can't keep himself out of trouble long enough to become a decent Exorcist, we should be figuring out what's going on!"

It took Shiemi a moment to realize that Kamiki-san's voice wasn't all poison—there was tension, maybe even fear underneath, and she wondered at how Kamiki-san could seem so composed even in this situation. She really was incredible!

"It wasn't really his fault he—" Rin started to protest, but was interrupted by Miwa-san.

"Kamiki-san has a point," he said, standing up and pursing his lips. "As poorly worded as it was, her suggestion to investigate our surroundings holds some weight—we cannot come up with a proper defense plan until we know what is going on. We should firstly try to contact our superiors, attempt to rally some kind of back up. Should that succeed, we sit tight if at all possible until we have aid. Should that not succeed, it is paramount that we explore any potential threats, which presumably would be outside this room."

Shiemi felt her mouth drop open. Miwa-san was usually so quiet and reserved, but everything that came out of his mouth was simply amazing! The rest of the room was similarly silent.

Miwa-san seemed to shrink back in on himself and shifted his feet. "Um, if that's okay with you guys, that is."

"Man," Rin said, grinning a little as he punched some numbers into the flip-phone he carried, "you've been holding out on us, Neko! That was _really_ smart."

Kamiki-san crossed her arms and tilted her head up, but didn't say anything. It was at that moment that Hisoragi-san shifted under her hand, and Shiemi snapped her attention back to him. "I—Is there any way I can help?"

He regarded her with a critical eye, glanced behind him, and then sighed. "I've got some pain meds in a bag in my coat pocket—it was draped over the chair. If we're getting into some tough shit, then I suppose that it's for the best that I don't feel much of anything for a while, even if getting off of it's going to be a bitch."

Nodding quickly, Shemi stood and stepped around Hisroagi-san's prone figure. As she bent to rifle through the pockets, vowing to persuade her mother to let her get a cell phone as soon as possible, she listened in on what the rest of the group was planning.

"Hey, I'll go out into the hall! I like these kinds of things, they're like real tests of courage."

"You sure? I mean, I'm not sure that exploring is the best idea ever, even if spotty four-eyes didn't answer." There was more to the apprehension in Rin's voice than she imagined the others heard.

"Why not? We need to know what's going on. It's just gathering intelligence—are you scared?" Kamiki-san, Shiemi noted as she looked over her shoulder, fingers clenched around a little plastic baggy with two pills in it, had stepped closer to Rin and was looking kind of confrontational. She really hoped they didn't fight.

"No need to get your panties in a bunch over this! I'm just saying that if there's anything out there, it might not be a great thing to go out ourselves. I mean, we don't even know enough to take down mid-level demons like ghouls on our own!"

Shiemi shuffled back to Hisoragi-san and handed him the bag. "Here it is."

"Thanks." His tone was gruff, but that was probably because he was hurting a lot. But he was breathing easier, and his face looked better than it had just minutes before. "Bottoms up, I guess."

He shook the pills out of the bag and then dry-swallowed them, not even blinking an eye. Shiemi shuddered mentally. She hated doing that—give her a big glass of water (or even tea!) and she might be able to get them down, but never dry.

"You managed well enough."

"Yukio was with me!"

Shiemi smiled at the poor guy still sitting on the ground. "Do you want me to help you up?"

"Sure," he grunted. "May as well get my crutches—they're leaning next to the door that Okumura-sensei went outta."

"Mm!" Again, she stood, the floor rough through her thick _tabi_. The crutches were a bit hard to see in the dim light, but she went over to grab them anyways—or she would have, but their classmate (what was his name again?) was in the way.

"E—Excuse me, classmate, but could I get the crutches behind you?" She found it rather odd that he wasn't even trying to help anyone, but he must have his reasons for it.

The puppet in his hand clacked its mouth. "Hah! Come and get them if you dare, you sissy!"

Air filled her mouth and pushed her cheeks out in frustration. How rude! "That's not very nice, you know! I did ask nicely, all you had to do was say no!"

"—and really, why do we—Shima, what the hell are you doing?"

Shiemi whirled around to watch as her pink-haired classmate slid one of the wooden doors open, chuckling all the while as he did so. From the dark gloom, however, peered the hideous face of a Naberius. She had to choke back her startled cry.

"Eh," he said, shutting the door but still staring at it dumbly. "Am I imagining things?"

With a snarl of frustration Rin dashed forward and pulled Shima back as the door shattered into splinters and the demon barged through, stitched flesh starting to bubble and convulse. Working on auto-pilot, Shiemi snagged the crutches from behind her rude classmate and darted back to Hisoragi-san's side, dropping them within his reach and firming her stance in front of him. She would protect him as much as she could, even if she wasn't the strongest or the smartest Exorcist-in-training there!

"Naberius!" Kamiki-san gasped, eyes wide and limbs trembling.

"What happened to the wards?" Miwa-san stumbled back a step or two, hands flinging up into a prayer position, the rosary still wound around his wrist. "Did they go down?"

The second faceless head on the ghoul started to almost surge and bubble, the seams binding it together stretching and snapping. All Shiemi could do was stare in horror, not understanding what was going to happen next.

"Shit, it's going to blow!" Rin yelled, and the last tenacious threads holding the flaps of skin together finally broke the instance after he spoke. Black liquid spewed everywhere, and Shiemi lifted an arm to shield her face. There was a slight burning sensation as the droplets made contact with her skin, but it faded away almost instantaneously.

_I have to protect them all_, she thought. _Not just Hisoragi-san!_ Now what plant would be able to stop the creature from pressing forward after that last attack?

"Nii-chan!" she cried, finally figuring out which plant would be best. "Oona-oona, quick!"

Her cute summon bounced up off her kimono and squeaked a little grunt as he prepared to bring out the plant in question. With a loud snapping noise, like wood made in winter as water squirmed into its cracks and expanded into ice, Oona-oona flew out of Nii-chan's tummy and towards the front of the room. The thick branches attached themselves to whatever surface they could, and she noted dimly how Angelina-chan had to scurry out of the way in order to not become entangled in one of the climbing limbs.

"Oh my god what is this thing."

Kamiki-san huffed. "Weren't you paying attention in Summoning class yesterday? It's a Naberius, or a ghoul."

"Not those I know what those are what is this thing." Hisoragi sounded panicked, so Shiemi glanced back. The motion caused her head to swim, but she had to make sure that he was okay.

In front of him stood a little black cat with the most adorable green eyes and—were those horns and two tails? She'd never seen anything like it, but the way it was pressing up against Hisoragi-san's chest didn't make it seem dangerous.

"Kuro!" Rin coughed a little, but he didn't seem to be as poorly off as the rest of them. "What're you doing here?"

"This thing is yours?"

Her head was swimming and she had to focus her eyes on Nii-chan, held in her cupped hands, in order to will it away. The summons glanced up at her and chirped encouragingly, a little smile on his face. It almost helped drown out the sound of wood breaking and snapping and regrowing as the ghoul growled, moaned, and snarled its way through the barrier.

"Guys!" Suguro-san barked, but she didn't dare look at him. "As long as the cat isn't dangerous, we shouldn't care! Moriyama's bought us some time, but the barrier only lasts as long as her strength does—and then we're dead meat."

_I won't let them down_, she vowed, and sucked in a deep, calming breath. She felt just a little less dizzy, but it still felt as though the energy was slowly being sapped out of her. _I'll keep them safe. I will. I will._

"Goddammit, it's already past sundown, isn't it? And the lights are off." Rin sounded frustrated and angry. "Shiemi's not gonna last until sunrise. It's too long."

Shiemi told herself that Rin didn't mean that comment as an insult. It wasn't like him to do that, and he was her friend; friends didn't hurt each other.

"Haha, I guess that's why they sound so spirited…"

Behind them, furthest from danger, Hisoragi-san spoke. "You did not just fucking laugh. This is not something you laugh about. We're stuck in a fucking room with no fucking light and there is a demon out for our fucking skins."

"Don't worry," Rin said. "You've got the rest of us to figure out how to get rid of it—wait, are there two out there?"

Hisoragi-san let out a whine that sounded almost like he was laughing. That was a rather odd thing for him to do, especially because he'd just told Shima-san off for doing just that. But as Shiemi glanced up through the gloom, she caught glimpse of two figures trying to muscle their way through her barrier.

Suddenly, she understood the desire to giggle hysterically.

Somebody sucked in a breath to her left, and then Rin spoke. "I'll go draw them off—if both of them don't follow, then I'm free to get help or find the…the…whatever turns the lights on."

A flash of alarm struck her in the chest. _No! No, Rin, don't!_

"No." Surugo-san said, tone refusing any potential argument. She felt a bit of relief; at least somebody was on her side! "No. That's not happening."

"Um, Bon, it's actually not a bad suggestion," Miwa-san spoke up, and Shiemi felt like snapping at him that it was and that they shouldn't send anybody out to die. "But I think that if Rin-san goes, then somebody should go with him. Ghouls like darkness, and there could be more lurking around any corner."

Without missing a beat, a low, feminine voice spoke up from her right. "I'll go with him."

Even Shiemi couldn't not look over her shoulder and stare at the (up to that point) forgotten Octavian-san. She felt some hope well up in her chest—was her female classmate actually looking to involve herself in the group? Finally! Maybe she was just a bit shy. If she was, Shiemi would be more than glad to help her fit in!

Rin choked. That was understandable, especially because it was such a kind offer! She would have been moved to tears herself.

"Ah," somebody else said, and Shiemi took a moment to place the name. Yamana—Yanata—Yamada! His name was Yamada-san. "You're _really_ looking forward to those dark corners, aren't you?"

As Octavian-san made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, Shiemi glanced back at Rin. His face looked a little gray. "Wha—what are you insinuating?"

Yamada-san didn't even pause before speaking. "Boy plus girl plus dark corner minus adult supervision equals hot steamy make-out session."

Shima found it in him to wolf-whistle. "Damn!"

Her cheeks flamed up. That—Octavian-san just wanted to go with Rin to kiss him? That was awful! They were in a dangerous situation and she thought that she could just do that?

"Kuro! Kuro can come with me. It's okay Octavian—" he stumbled a little over his words, causing the '-chan' to have a bit of a hissing start, "I think I'll be fine."

"That doesn't count, Rin!" Suguro-san yelled, stumbling as he tried to stand and stop him, but Rin had chosen that moment to frantically climb into the labyrinth of branches.

"Rin! Don't, it's dangerous!" she cried, and the two-tailed black cat pressed up against her side before bounding after her first (and best) friend.

His returning call had a little bit of an echo to it. "'Sokay, I'm tougher than I look!" After that, there was some growling and snarling and a bit of hissing before a massive crash and the sound of breaking plywood. Shiemi peered through the gloom, and saw only one Naberius.

"At least he only has to deal with one, the idiot," Suguro-san muttered, and Shiemi glanced out of the corner of her eye to see him resettling down into a kneeling position. Her breath was coming shorter in her chest, and there was sweat beading on her forehead.

_I'll make it through this_, she told herself. _I can do this. I will do this._

Before she focused herself entirely on the task in front of her—it was huge, but she couldn't think of that—she heard Shima-san say, "Angelina-chan, I'll make out with you some other time in a dark corner if you want."

* * *

><p>He really, really hated Ghouls. Hated them with a passion. Had hated them ever since they'd beat the living crap out of him and his brother when he hadn't even started puberty yet. The one chasing him and Kuro wasn't making itself out to be any better than its kin.<p>

Kuro meowed at his side, both of them sprinting for their lives. Rin glanced down to see Kuro take a couple of jumps and puff himself up and then look up at his human charge. For a moment, Rin didn't know what he was getting at.

"Ah," he realized, "no, hallway's too small. If we find something bigger, sure, but I think Yukio'd be mad at me if I managed to bring the building down."

The Cait Sith gave a serious nod, and then mewled something else. If Rin concentrated really hard, he could hear snatches of words. _Where…we…huh?_

Rin skidded around a corner, grabbing it with his hand so that the turn was tight. The Naberius crashed through the opposing wall while he and Kuro kept running. "Um, where're we going?"

He pushed the door to the stairs open and kept running, knowing that making the ghoul run into the wall wasn't going to keep it down for very long at all. Kuro smiled his little cat-smile as he jumped onto the rail and then on Rin's left shoulder.

"Trying to find the thing for the lights. I think it's called the beaker box or something? If we get that, then everybody'll have an easier time against the other ghoul."

Kuro purred and pushed himself up against Rin's cheek, and one of his tails brushed the back of Rin's neck. He shuddered and jumped, nearly missing the next step down. "Ah! No, that tickles!"

A light huffing laugh came from Kuro's tiny chest, and Rin scowled. That just wasn't nice at all. Rin hit the bottom step and then pushed the other door to the stairs open, hyperaware of how he wasn't hearing any clacking, scratching, or pounding of flesh against metal behind him. He didn't seem to have the Naberius after him anymore.

The thought was actually alarming.

"Right then," Rin said, breathing a little heavy. Damn, he was getting out of shape—maybe he should really take Bon up on his offer to do morning workouts, even _if_ they were at ungodly hours. "Which way?"

Kuro batted his right paw against Rin's collarbone.

"Right? Okay, let's try it."

Before he could take more than five long strides, however, a sign on one of the doors caught his eye, and he backtracked a few steps. _Equipment_, it read, and Rin felt a smirk tug at his lips.

"This has got to be it," he murmured, and Kuro jumped off his shoulder when Rin twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Sure enough, there was a switchboard on the back wall, and Rin felt like things were finally going his way.

He jogged over to the board and examined the switches. Most of them seemed to be turned to the off position, and he felt relief slacken his muscles. At least there wasn't something stupid like a blown fuse getting in his way. That would be something he shouldn't even try to fix—the one time he had ended with him banned from tinkering with any household amenities, from the plumbing to heating and cooling.

_RIN!_

There was suddenly a long, whip-like thing curving in front of his face, and he didn't even have time to drop to the ground before he was thrown back from the switchboard and over the edge of the platform. The only reason he hadn't become a smear on the far wall was because he'd snagged the railing and had used it to break his fall. Hitting the concrete ground still stung and his nose wrinkled up in the beginnings of a snarl.

"Stupid," he murmured, jumping back from the ledge so that he could see his assailant. Kuro was heckling it, but that wouldn't last long; it seemed hellbent on pursuing him. "Stupid stupid stupid. Such a rookie mistake. Stupid."

The moment that Kuro was flung to the side, thankfully landing on his feet and looking only lightly battered, he reached for Tsunagiri.

Right hand tensed over his armband, Rin studied the Naberius climbing down the railing and pushed down his frustration. It was obviously very agile and had decent speed and strength, but he was faster and smarter—even if the latter was something that his classmates would contest._ Out, Tsunagiri_, he thought, and the hilt rose to meet the palm of his hand.

The Naberius hit the ground and flung itself towards him, hands outstretched and not even balking at the sight of cold steel in his grasp where there had been nothing before. Rin frowned and got into a ready stance in the few seconds it took for the Naberius to cover the space between them.

The moment it swung at him, he slid to the side and slammed its side with the end of his hilt, making sure that it kept contact for a couple seconds. _My will is stronger!_ He thought. _Leave!_

But it didn't, which confused Rin. As it kept moving forward, damned by its own momentum, the frown etched itself deeper into his face. A Naberius, as much as he hated the species, was only a mid-level demon, and therefore certainly something that Rin should be able to get rid of via exorcism 'stamp' of sorts. They didn't have wills strong enough to survive his determination, so how had _this_ one?

It slid to a stop and bounded back at him, gurgling and growling all the while. A black blur fell by his side, and Kuro pressed against him. Rin spared a split second to look down at his partner, and saw Kuro doing the bristling thing again.

He didn't even need to look at the ceiling to know that it'd be big enough.

"Go for it." A grin stretched across his face. The tides had totally been turned in their favor. Totally. The Cait Sith meowed back in agreement, and tensed.

Before Kuro could transform, though, there was a smack of flesh on concrete behind him, and Rin whirled around just in time to catch a glimpse of gray-brown and thick stitches before he had the breath knocked out of him and was slammed into the wall.

He tried to gasp, but nothing was coming. Mouth opening and closing like the fish he'd once caught and dropped onto the ground at a festival, he could only stare in horror as the Naberius—_built for speed and stealth, strength comes mostly from momentum it builds up, not from the arms themselves_—stalked towards him. The other one, he noted, panic building in his chest, was joining the first.

With a loud roar, Kuro transformed and bounded in front of him, tails writhing in the air and front paws batting at the demons. Rin struggled to push himself up, still feeling as though he could hardly breathe. His back ached and screamed at the effort, and he just knew that it was turning black and blue that very moment. Bleary-eyed, he watched his friend and protector struggle to bat off both of the ghouls, hissing and yowling. He could do it. Rin believed in him.

And then Rin saw the third Naberius preparing to leap onto Kuro's back. There was no time to think anything other than _I have to help him_ before the ghoul tensed and then pushed off the ground.

Rin slashed his hand out, and the room lit up.

Blue flames rolled out in thick, warm waves off his shoulders and through the air, catching the third ghoul and disintegrating it in a flash. They settled on Kuro's fur and ran over him, protecting, never burning anything other than the rotting flesh of the ghouls when they came too close.

_Rin!_ He could hear Kuro now; using his flames did that. _You guys can't ever hurt my Rin! Stay away!_

A deep breath in and a slow, shaky exhale told him that while he wasn't completely recovered, he was well on his way. Except for the mess that he called his back, but even that pain was fading—adrenaline, probably. He narrowed his eyes at the retreating Naberius, watched how they slunk back into the shadows. What the hell? Did they have an infestation in this building or something? He'd never seen so many ghouls in one pla—

_Shit_, he thought, and patted around on the ground until he found Tsunagiri. _There might be more. I left them in that room defenseless. Dammit they won't be able to handle more than one of these damn things!_

_ Rin? _Kuro backed up a little, one of his tails snaking around and providing a decent support for Rin to use to stand. Once he was on his feet, he sucked another breath in, ready to tell Kuro that they had to make it back to his classmates.

A slow clap echoed around the equipment room.

Rin knew how damning this was. He had clearly called the blue flames into existence, had clearly used them to attack other demons, and they were still there. They flickered, casting eerie shadows across the concrete and cold metal, burrowed between the hairs of Kuro's fur and flowing over the top of Rin's clothing. Fear struck him deep, and he could only stare out at where the noise came from.

_Don't let this hurt Dad_, he pleaded, heart pounding against his diaphragm. _Don't let this hurt Yukio. Don't let this hurt them._

"There we are," a voice said, deep and gravely and hauntingly familiar. A dark figure stepped forward from one of the corners of the room, and it took Rin a moment to remember his features in the dim blue light. "Those blue, blue flames. That's what I wanted to see."

All Rin could feel was horror, and Kuro pressed closer in response.

"I must say that I'm almost impressed—for a boy of your age to fend off a mid-level summon like a Naberius is not commonplace. If not for the fact that I continued to press you with additional demons…" Neuhaus-sensei shrugged, hand on the head of one of the two summons. "Well, you might have actually taken it down with very little damage to yourself."

"Are you even a teacher?" Rin furrowed his brows. What kind of teacher put his own students in danger for the sake of finding out dirty secrets that had no business being exposed?

"Okumura Rin," he continued, not even responding to him. Rin felt the anger rise up, and the room became a bit brighter. "Son of Satan. You could not show your classmates this ability, so of course I had to do this."

Rin stepped forward, one hand on Kuro's warm body. "You…you made the attacks happen? Yesterday and today?"

If so, this man had put his classmates in danger. He put his friends in danger. He put his _brother_ in danger and no, no, there was no forgiveness for that.

Neuhaus-sensei—that bastard Neuhaus—laughed. "Why, yes. Now, show me more."

Rin was still for a moment. Kuro tensed.

Then they _moved_. Rin had been told that he and Kuro worked together better than the majority of official Exorcist pairs, and considering that True Cross was well-known for its members' abilities to act cohesively in battle, it was very high praise. It also wasn't praise for the sake of praise alone.

For as Kuro exploded forward and hooked the ghoul furthest from its Tamer with his paw, Rin zigged and zagged across the floor, cutting the flames so that the room was cast into sudden dimness. The moment that he was within reach of Neuhaus-bastard's second summon, Rin flared the flames and used the sudden brightness to send his former teacher reeling backwards. In the heartbeat after, he channeled the flames down Tsunagiri's length so that they were like a tight sheath over the blade and thrust it forward into the chest of the Naberius, edge up. Then he jerked it towards its heads, separating one from the other.

The ghoul faded away in wisps of dirty black smoke, and Rin knew without looking that the other Naberius had met the same fate. As he looked up to give Neuhaus-bastard a talking to, however, the man was gone.

"You fucker!" he yelled, flames dancing wildly along his arms and down the length of his legs. "Don't you dare run away, you damn coward!"

How dare he! He was a teacher, a protector, and he didn't do that! He endangered his charges all for the sake of his own stupid curiosity—and how the fuck did he even know that Rin was Satan's spawn, anyways?

Rin's breath came out harsh and quick, his arms trembled, and his knuckles were white around Tsunagiri's grip. Kuro came over and nudged him in the side, huge green eyes understanding but urgent. He wanted so bad to pursue the sorry excuse for a teacher, but his _friends_. If he didn't go back for them, then he'd be as bad as Neuhaus himself.

"Okay," Rin said, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling just as deep. "Okay." He willed his flames to die down, instructed them to draw back. The room darkened.

Kuro pushed his head underneath the backs of Rin's knees and lifted him up so that he could stand on the platform where the switchboard was. The Nekomata then leaped up and transformed mid-air so that he was normal-cat-sized as he landed on Rin's head.

"Okay." The eldest Okumura reached into his pants pocket and withdrew his phone, stepping forward and snapping the lights back on in great handfuls as he pressed in a number he knew by heart. "Let's get this settled."

He was sprinting up the stairs, Kuro nestled into his hair, when the phone finally connected and his old man's voice came over the intercom. "Rin? You never call, what's going on?"

His teeth bared, Rin answered. "Neuhaus. Fucking Neuhaus."

There was a pause on the other end, and then Dad murmured something about excusing him, he had an important call to tend to, thank you for understanding. A moment later, he spoke, tone iron hard. "Tell me everything."

And Rin, sprinting up the stairs as fast as he could, afraid and angry and feeling the chill of foreboding settling into his spine, did.

* * *

><p>Really, it wasn't that surprising that Okumura ran out on them to go do his superhero thing. It was somewhat worrisome that he went off on his own, yeah, but the guy could hold his ground—he'd proven that much up against possessed-Shiratori. It didn't seem like anybody else knew how capable the guy was, though.<p>

"That idiot!" The guy with the rooster's comb growled. "You don't go out there alone! He's going to get ripped to shreds! Shima, go after him."

Shima jumped and laughed a little nervously, his gaze having been focused somewhere else in the room. Pervert. "No use, Bon; I'm as worried as you are, but I'm not going to be able to find him. 'Sides, would you rather have one of us out there alone, or two of us?"

Suguro dragged a hand down the side of his face as he shifted his head to look at Moriyama. "I can't just stand here doin' nothing! I mean, none of us are doing anything except Moriyama, and you heard Rin—she's not lasting forever!"

Biting his lip, Takumi looked to the side. Fuck, he couldn't help his broken body—the pain meds were kicking in though, he noted dimly. He didn't feel the light pain in his ribs, as they were jarred when he fell on his other side. His leg also felt wonderful. Almost like he could walk on it. The doc had also told him under no circumstances other than impending death should he put weight on it, even if it felt fine. After months of this crippled nonsense, there was no way that Takumi was going to go against those orders as long as they got him better faster.

"I know!" Suguro smacked his fist against his palm, distracting Takumi. "I'll defeat it with its death verse."

That was one of the weirdest things that Takumi had learned; that you could literally kill demons by talking them to death. He found it too odd to take seriously and often fell asleep during class. The fact that class was the same time as when his pain meds started flagging was simply a godsend.

"We haven't even covered that in class," Shima said, a puzzled frown on his face. "I should know; you make me go over material with you every day."

The other teenager shook his head. "No, but I know that those death verses are in the Book of John, and I have that memorized."

That didn't sound too impressive to Takumi. Those books were pretty short, weren't they? It's not like the sections were particularly thick when he separated each book from the rest of the Bible.

Shima's mouth, however, dropped open. "What? The Book of John has, like, twenty chapters!"

Woah wait those books had subsections? Holy shit what kind of monster was Suguro that he remembered all of _that_?

"Actually, there's twenty-one," the kid with the glasses spoke up—Miwa! Miwa Konekmaru, he _finally_ remembered it—from where he was kneeling. "I've memorized up through chapter ten, so I can start there and help."

"Great!" Suguro flashed Miwa a thumbs up that left Takumi feeling really, really useless. He couldn't memorize hundreds and thousands of words all in the same order. He couldn't even get up and punch anything.

_Why the hell am I here_? He asked himself, looking down at his thick, useless hands. _It's not like I can do anything. I'm just baggage. I can't…I can't._

He couldn't do anything when Shiratori happened. He couldn't do anything when that ghoul attacked the girls in the bathroom. He couldn't do anything now. Nothing, he realized, had changed since he'd attended Cram School except the fact that he'd realized that Shiratori was a dick. What use was he?

"Just wait right there!"

Takumi's head snapped up to look over to the left at Kamiki, who was standing with her little hands fisted by her sides.

"Once you start intonation," she said, face filled with some emotion that Takumi couldn't recognize, "the Naberius will just enter a frenzy and target you!"

"Who cares?" Suguro yelled, standing on his knees. He pointed over at Moriyama, who was sweating and breathing heavily. She shivered from time to time, and Takumi worried that she wouldn't last long enough for them all to survive. "When a girl's in need, a guy can't just stand around and watch!"

Shima chuckled as he reached into his open button-down shirt. "Heh, spoken like a true man, Bon! I haven't memorized anything though, so I'll protect you with this!" He pulled out a brassy-golden collapsible staff with six rings and flicked it to its full length.

_Well_, Takumi thought, _I guess that makes up for not knowing anything that you're Meistering in._

_Not that you're one to talk_, something inside him murmured. _You can't remember. You haven't even chosen a Meister!_

"Woah, you came armed!"

_And you didn't do that. How much of a failure are you?_

Kamiki stomped her foot. "It'll never work! We're not cut out for this, we can't defeat a mid-level demon all on our own at this point!"

_At least she's contributing!_ He screamed at himself. _Look at you. Look at you. You're just sitting on your ass doing nothing._

"Look who's full of hot air," Bon said, face turned away as he settled into a traditional kneeling position. "You never know until you try, and I'm not going to lie down and die just like that!"

Something in him stretched almost to the point of snapping, and Takumi pulled his chair forward, the legs scraping against the ground. The rest of the group looked back at him from where they were getting ready to fight evil. "Um," he said, voice suddenly feeling as though it were stuck in his throat, "can I help?"

Kamiki opened her mouth to talk, but Miwa cut her off in an uncharacteristic display of confidence. "It's fine, Takumi-san. If you want, you could move behind Moriyama-san and make sure she has some support."

"Okay." He felt like he'd just been thrown a bone by a sympathetic onlooker, but he was going to take what he could. Scooching his chair forward decimeters at a time, Takumi eventually settled himself just to the left of Moriyama, ready to brace her at any moment. _I'm going to help_, he thought.

The idea still felt empty.

Suguro sighed. "Look, Kamiki, if you're not going to help, then get out of the way." And then he settled in and diverted his attention away from everybody other than Miwa. "Neko, you start on chapter one, I'll start on chapter eleven. Don't let me put you off!"

"I won't!" Miwa said, settling in himself. From his new vantage point, even with Shima blocking part of Suguro's body, Takumi could see them take in a deep breath, and begin to recite the gospel of John.

"In the beginning was the word," Miwa began. His voice wasn't half bad.

But Suguro's voice overpowered his little friend's. "Now a certain man was sick, a man by the name of Lazarus. He hailed from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha (This Mary, whose brother Lazarus of Bethany lay ill, was the same who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped his feet with her hair.) So the sisters sent a missive to the Lord Jesus, 'Lord, the one you love is sick.' When he heard of the state…"

Takumi's mouth lay open in awe. The feeling and complete sense of power that he felt coming from Suguro was nothing that he'd expected from his classmate. Sure, physical power, but not this…this…this feeling of control and peace. Suguro seemed to be so easy to anger and quick to loose himself to his emotions that Takumi hadn't pegged him as the kind for this sort of display.

Even Miwa—shy, unsure and insanely smart (Takumi's idea of the typical Aria)—didn't have the poetry in his voice that Suguro did.

Next to him, Moriyama swayed a bit, and he reached down to lay a hand on her shoulder reflexively. Upon realizing that he was touching a real live girl without punching her or being punched, he felt his face go a bit red.

She slowly moved her head around to look at him, looking haggard and exhausted. It took a moment for recognition to light her dim green eyes up, and that scared him. He didn't know Moriyama too well, but from seeing her act around Okumura, he knew that she usually had more energy than this.

"Hisoragi-san," she said, words a slow, muddled drawl. "You…how are you? Do you feel better?"

"Don't worry 'bout me," he said, low and gruff. "You just keep going on. Keep that up as long as you can—I'll catch you when you fall."

A small smile bloomed on her face. "Okay. You catch me, Rin carries me. But I'll…" she let out a deep, shuddery breath. The intoned verses punctuated the air and sending the ghoul into a rabid frenzy. "I'll make sure you don't need to."

She then returned her attention to the front and closed her eyes in concentration, her little fuzzy mossy whatever-the-hell-it-was familiar chirping low and stroking her thumb with its stump-hand. "I…I'll be strong enough to protect you all."

Takumi looked down at her, and slid his hand off her shoulder. She'd said that like she didn't know that she already was, didn't know that she was single-handedly buying them the time to go through the entire Book of John. Which apparently was not something to scoff at.

_You already are_, he wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to. She was stronger than him—she, who dressed in flowery kimono and acted like such a naïve ditz. It might be an awful reason not to say it, but he didn't want to acknowledge out loud that the weakest person in class was turning out to be the strongest. He didn't want to acknowledge out loud that _he_ was the weakest.

"…the evening meal had long begun, and the devil had already prompted Judas, son of Simian Iscariot, to lay his Lord Jesus aside in treachery. Jesus knew that his Father…"

"…took Jesus's word as Truth and departed. While still on the path homeward bound, his servants met him, exclaiming that his child was still among the living. When he inquired…"

But he was. He looked up at his classmates before him, at Suguro and Miwa's kneeling, chanting forms, the way Miwa gripped his knees and the way Suguro clutched at the rosary draped over his hands. He watched Shima stand just to the front and left of Bon, his staff being strangled by nervous fingers, watched Kamiki as she glanced between the two Aria, her face screaming indecision. He glanced down at Moriyama, watched the sweat bead at her forehead and fall down the contours of her paling face, saw how her jaw clenched and how her shoulders shook with effort.

All of them stronger. All of them more competent.

Then he realized that wait, wait didn't they have more students in their class?

He peered over his shoulder and his jaw dropped at the sight that met him. Lined up against the back cabinetry that set the next section of the room apart from the first were that one creepy puppet guy, gamer-Yamada, and prissy-flouncy-loose (if Yamada was to be believed) Angelina Octavian. Creepy puppet guy was playing with the sock rabbit he constantly had on his hand, his eyes squinted as shut as they usually were.

Gamer-Yamada was, predictably, quickly jabbing away at his DS with his thumbs. If Takumi strained for it, he could hear tinny sound effects and tinkling music.

"Ooh, level up." Yamada drawled, thumbs still flying. "Take that, shitheads who claimed I couldn't make it to level thirty-nine. Level forty, here we come."

Angelina snorted as she filed away at her nails, examining the lacquer in the dim lighting. "This isn't that bad of a color," she murmured. "I should wear it more often."

Shit, maybe he wasn't the worst guy in class. He shuddered and turned around to where (bizarrely enough) things made more sense. It was sad that being in the middle of the overachievers and overly-talented was more comfortable than sitting with the slackers. Maybe something major had changed since he'd joined Cram School.

"Ooooh, go away go away go away we don't want you here," Shima muttered from the front, dancing from foot to foot. "We don't like you, you should just leave."

When Takumi looked up and through the giant cluster of wooden branches, he realized that he could clearly see the way the stitches ran across the monster's gray-brown skin. That wasn't very good.

He glanced down at Moriyama again. Her skin color didn't bode well for them either, and neither did the way she was breathing heavily.

Takumi bit his lip and shifted his crutches under his left arm as he eyed the demonic form approaching them. If that thing came too close, he was not opposed to shoving it full of metal, rubber, and plastic, and then hoping that it died of indigestion.

"…many became followers of the Son of God, Jesus of Nazareth." Miwa sucked in a breath and the tension in his shoulders cut abruptly as he finished. Takumi watched as he pulled off his glasses and wiped them with the edge of his shirt, his eyes smaller somehow without the red frames.

"No, not this way, go the other way out the door oh my God it's reaching its arm out towards us."

He looked back towards the blockade as quick as he dared when he heard Shima start squeaking and inhaled sharply. The Naberius was wedging itself between two of the branches, squirming and writhing to fit through the gap. It was also succeeding at an alarming rate.

"Shit," he said. "We're fucked. We're so fucked."

Miwa spoke up from his side of the room. "Bon's reached the final chapter! This must be its death verse!"

He was never ever forgetting that. Never. Last verse of the Book of John is the fucking executioner's blade for a ghoul. Of course it was the last verse, they could never get anything easy, could they?

"This spake he, signifying by what death he should glorify God…" Suguro intoned, a little crease forming between his eyebrows but otherwise not breaking his concentration.

"But it's coming throu-hoo-hooough!" Shima sobbed, the rings on his staff making clacking noises as it shook in his hands. Takumi himself was shaking a little, and he looked down to see how Moriyama was do—

He saw the moment that her face slackened in exhaustion and she finally let go, falling backwards. It was then that his right hand shot down and supported her back, lowering her to the ground far more gently than he ever had with another person other than his mother.

"Moriyama's down!" he called, and heard somebody dash over.

"Damn you!" Shima cried, and there was a jarring jangling of brass against flesh and a spurt of something liquid. "I'm going to die now, but damn you!"

Kamiki shoved his chair forward a few paces. "Over there, you lump of flesh!" she snarled. "I have to make sure she's not dead!"

As they conversed behind him (apparently Moriyama wasn't dead after all), all he could think was _maybe it's a girl thing_ as he watched the ghoul growl and swipe at Shima's staff. He rose to his crutches as the monk staff was finally ripped from Shima's hands and flung to the side.

"Damn you!" Shima cried again, leaping after his weapon. "Damn you to hell!"

The Naberius took one step towards Suguro, gait unsteady. Takumi remembered his past thought about making it eat metal and having it die of indigestion and thought that it might be a pretty decent plan with the way things were going.

"Obey me!" Kamiki screamed, making him jump. _Why the hell do I have to obey you_? He thought, but saw two white figures out of the corner of his eye. It took him a moment, but he finally placed them as her summons.

Miwa shouted, "Bon!" and Takumi glanced over in that direction to see the Naberius pounce, its creepy flower-head open and black fluid flying everywhere.

"Coming!" the stuck-up girl behind him called, and she flung her hands forward. "Shudder, shiver, and shake!"

There were suddenly two streaks stopping the ghoul from moving, hot flashes of blue and white popping up and illuminating the skin of the demon further. The Naberius screamed, long tongue writhing in the air, and Takumi resisted the urge to cram his fingers in his ears at the awful noise.

But it only took a moment for the attack to dissipate, and Takumi knew it wasn't enough. As his classmates called to each other, he let the crutches fall, balanced himself on one leg, and wrapped his hands around the top of the chair that he'd been given.

The moment that the Naberius started reaching for the still chanting Suguro's head, Takumi wrenched the chair up and over his head and let it fly straight into the demon's head.

There was a magnificent crunching and splintering of wood as the chair broke from the impact with the creature's face, which was snapped to the side by said impact. Takumi took a moment to be absurdly proud that he'd managed to do something productive even though he was handicapped. _Hah!_

"Good shot!" Shima yelled, and the lights flickered on.

For a moment, the ghoul paused in its assault. For a moment, Takumi thought that they had won, watching its face shrivel back in on itself to hide from the light.

And then its hand shot out and dug its wretched fingers into Suguro's hair. Aside from a hitch in Suguro's voice, he didn't show any indication of having acknowledged his imminent death.

"Bon!"

"Suguro!"

Takumi took a moment to curse himself. He'd celebrated too soon—they all had, really, and Suguro was about to pay the price.

"..the world itself," Suguro croaked out, hands limp at his sides and eyes narrowed, "could not contain the books that should be written!"

The rotting hand that had been reaching for Suguro's shirt disintegrated into sticky-looking smoke, and Suguro collapsed on the ground, wheezing and shaking from nerves. Takumi would have wobbled forward, but he was kind of stranded.

No crutches and no chair did that to you.

"Um, guys?" he ventured. "A…a little help here?"

Kamiki, surprisingly, was the first responder, and gathered up his crutches with a snort. "Smart move."

"Probably not," he said honestly, settling himself on the crutches with a mental sigh of relief. He hadn't been sure how much longer he could balance without them. "But it looked damn cool."

She seemed really taken aback by that, and had just gotten over her five seconds of speechlessness when Okumura slid into the room, _that sword_ in one hand and a flip-phone pressed to his ear in the other. That damn cat was perched on his shoulder.

"Situation?" he all but barked, shirt scuffed and torn and face looking a little black and blue. Suguro stopped talking about how he thought he was going to die to stare at the newcomer.

Takumi really couldn't blame them for being stunned into silence. Even though he knew that Okumura was really one tough dude, the fact that he had apparently gotten rid of one Naberius on his own while they had struggled to pin theirs down with teamwork was rather intimidating.

"Th—the other one?" Suguro asked for them all, and Takumi glanced over to see his eyes wide and disbelieving. He also seemed to be developing a tick in his left eyebrow.

"They're taken care of. Is everybody okay? Is—Shiemi!" Okumura dashed forward, _sword_ _still in his fucking hand and why the hell was it not gone_. He tossed the phone at Takumi with a short, "Get my old man filled in!" before dropping to his knees by her side and sliding a couple fingers onto the skin by her neck. When the hell did he find the time to call his old man when they were all facing imminent death?

"…Rin?" came over the line, tinny and quiet from where he was holding it by his chest, and Takumi pulled the phone up to his ear faster than he'd answered any phone in his life. The Paladin was Okumura's old man. The Paladin was _Okumura's old man._

"Um," he said, "not anymore? It's Hisoragi Takumi now. Sir."

In the second before the Paladin spoke, he heard Surugo let out a strangled "_They?_"

"Hello, Hisoragi-kun. Would you mind terribly telling me what's going on over there? Rin couldn't answer all of my questions because he wasn't with you guys at the time. Is everybody safe? No major injuries?"

"I don't think so…Moriyama's probably the worst, and she's just out of it because of exhaustion."

"How?" He sounded nice enough over the phone, but Takumi wasn't all that convinced that the Paladin wasn't upset. Okumura had looked like a thundercloud when he'd stormed into the room, and Takumi was pretty sure that alone would set the Paladin off.

Not that he was going to say anything 'bout that. "She held off the ghoul with a plant that came out of her summons for…well, for a long time, and—oh, she's getting up now sir."

At the moment that Moriyama sat up, a head pressed to her forehead and both Okumura and Kamiki hovering at her side, Suguro lunged for their sword-wielding classmate with a frustrated yowl.

"What was that?"

Okumura snagged Suguro's shirt and rolled them both towards the wall and away from Moriyama. "Oh my god Bon don't you see I have a _sword_?"

"You suck!" Suguro screamed. "I can't believe you! Were you trying to get yourself killed, 'coz I wasn't and I _nearly did_!"

Takumi's voice, when it finally came out, felt a little weak. "Suguro kind of…attacked Okumura?"

"Why?" It might have been just him, but Takumi thought that Fujimoto-san's voice was a bit flatter than necessary.

"Stress?" he ventured, because he'd have done the same thing if he hadn't known that Okumura was plenty strong and if he wasn't reduced to crutches. Plus, Suguro's fit of rage kind of supported his guess.

The Paladin made a noise of understanding over the phone. "Could you tell me how you got rid of your ghoul?"

"Um," Takumi said eloquently. "We killed it with words."

Still couldn't believe that was an actual _thing_.

Okumura had pinned Suguro to the floor, right knee digging into the other boy's back and one hand restraining both of the other's. "I wasn't! It's not my fault that Neuhaus is a dick and kept them coming! 'Sides, Kuro saved my _ass_ back there!"

Somebody gasped in the background, and Takumi glanced over to the side to see Miwa with his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. Shima looked similarly taken aback, his monk staff drooping down towards the ground. Above them, there was a sort of shuffling thump, but it sounded like one that would be made by a small animal—like a large rat or something.

Fuck there better not be such thing as miniature ghouls.

There was a muffled "Neuhaus?" from Suguro as Fujimoto-san sighed over the phone. "Get me back to Rin, if you could. That boy has no filter, I swear."

Takumi held the phone out to his classmate. "Um. He wants you back."

"Thanks, Takumi!" Rin said, still way too steady for somebody who'd just stared death straight in the face and was currently stopping his classmate from killing him. He stood and Suguro rolled over into a crouch, confusion tugging at his eyebrows.

Takumi slid down to the ground as well as he could manage, but the descent was still a bit fast for his liking. Amazing—he still couldn't tell if anything hurt yet.

"Hey, hey," somebody hissed in his ear, and Takumi jerked back as he realized that Shima was right next to his fucking face. "What'd Rin mean by Neuhaus-sensei?"

He shrugged and opened his mouth to answer that he didn't have a clue, but Kamiki beat him to it. "He means that he saw Neuhaus-sensei down there controlling his summons."

Upon looking over in her direction, he could see how pale and betrayed she seemed. "It makes sense," she continued. "Neuhaus-sensei summons ghouls; we all know that. And we also know that True Cross Academy is warded against demons like them."

"Therefore," Miwa said as Kamiki paused—when the hell had they all gotten so close?—eyebrows furrowed in a whole bunch of emotions that Takumi didn't know how to read, "Neuhaus-sensei summoning the Naberius that we have encountered all this time is the most logical conclusion. The real question, though is why?"

"That's awful," Moriyama said, face upset and tears welling in her eyes. That two-tailed black cat was in her arms, and it stroked her cheek with hers in what Takumi assumed was sympathy. "That's really awful."

Suguro butted in. No seriously, they were all within arms' length, when had even become a thing? "Yeah, I'd like to know that too, but what I really wanna know is why Rin got pummeled with more than one, and _where the hell did he get that sword_."

They were all silent for a moment, each of them appraising the blade. Except Takumi, because, well, the sword wasn't exactly news. He was more focused on how close everybody was. _Is this a huddle? Are we huddling? Are we seriously huddling?_

"…normal, but I can't be sure. The Fucker ran away before I could lay a hand on him." Rin gestured with the sword, and Takumi winced. It was like he didn't even realize there was a sharp edge to the thing.

Miwa hummed in thought. "It appears to be a sword designed primarily for exorcism—the runes running up and down the length of the blade aren't found on typical swords forged for other reasons and then adapted to the lifestyle of exterminating demons."

To the front and right of him, Suguro whistled. "Definitely an expensive gift. Perhaps he got it for getting into Cram School?"

That sounded wrong though. Takumi distinctly remembered the back of the blade cracking his ribs. Damn, that had hurt.

Takumi found himself speaking without thinking. "He broke my ribs with that thing."

Everybody's eyes were on him before he could even blink. He abruptly remembered what Okumura-sensei had looked like earlier that day when he'd been about to talk about Okumura's weirdness with the flames. His hands almost flew up to cover his mouth, but he managed to restrain them to just twitching violently in his lap.

"He…he's had that thing all along?" Shima sounded a little squeakier than usual, and in his eyes was this odd gleam. To be fair, Kamiki and Suguro had it as well, but it was still a little unsettling.

Thankfully, before he was pressed to answer, the door at the back of the room opened, and he twisted around to see who it was. There was a hot moment of panic (_oh shit it's another one we're all gonna die)_ but then he saw Okumura-san and wondered if he really didn't want the Naberius after all. _He knows!_ Something in him screamed in horror. _He knows that we said something we probably shouldn't have!_

"Yukio!" Okumura cried. "Hold on old man, I—"

From behind their assistant teacher for Demon Pharmaceuticals (though really, he may as well be their teacher for how much the Paladin actually did in that lecture) stepped Neuhaus-sensei.

There was a pause as everything fell deathly silent in the room, save for the tap-tap-tap of Yamada's fingers against the keys.

Then Okumura burst into motion, phone falling to the floor and sword at the ready; the only warning he gave was a wordless, almost animalistic growl. For a moment Takumi seriously thought that this was going to end with Neuhaus-sensei's head on the floor and the floorboards stained with blood.

The moment he'd tensed to move forward, however, a whitish, pinkish, purplish blur descended from the ceiling and knocked Okumura onto his front with an _oof_. His sword went flying out of his grasp and skittered across the floor to rest by Okumura-sensei's feet.

Takumi gaped up at the figure. _Is that…_

"Well done, my cute little pages!"

It was.

Johannes Faust dropped firmly onto Okumura's back and turned around, a manic grin on his thin, shark-toothed face. His arms spread wide, and he beamed. "How did you like it?"

"I—Is that the _Headmaster_?" Suguro's voice had gone up high enough to imitate a five-year-old girl's with a surprising amount of accuracy.

"Did we like it?" Shima's voice was a perfect match to Suguro's. "Did we like it? _We nearly died!_"

Faust tutted and flapped a hand in a supreme lack of concern. "Oh, did you honestly think that I, the great Headmaster of this wonderful Academy, would allow mid-level demons to terrorize my students at will?"

Takumi would have believed it in a heartbeat—not that he was saying anything. No, he was shutting his mouth and playing mute until he could trust himself to not word vomit all over the place.

With a snap of his fingers, Faust proclaimed, "Teachers, reveal yourselves!"

With a sudden flurry of motion, the doors of one of the closets slid open, one bushy-haired teacher dropped from the ceiling tiles much like Faust himself had, and another popped up from the floorboards. Takumi's mouth dropped open again, but he had a stranglehold on his voicebox. He would not yell. He would not yell. He would not scream at them as to why exactly they didn't stop them all from nearly dying.

"Doctors, please tend to the wounded." Okumura was cussing underneath Faust, but the Headmaster didn't move but one foot down from his perch.

Okumura-sensei came over and kneeled at his side, fingers gently brushing his ribs. "I saw you take that fall earlier," he murmured, and when had he gotten Okumura's cell phone? "You're lucky that it wasn't on your injured side. Is everything all right?"

Takumi nodded, but didn't open his mouth. Behind him, Suguro breathed, "No way…" and he got the impression that he wasn't going to like the reason why there were all these Easter-egg teachers in the room.

"That's right, young man!" Faust crowed, one foot on Okumura's back. He spread his arms wide again, and glitter and confetti rained down from fucking nowhere. "The intensive study camp was, itself, the Esquire Certification exam!"

_What. The. Fuck._

He finally couldn't deal with it anymore and flopped backwards, arm over his eyes. Okumura gave a little huffing groan of his own, and Takumi could barely hear him say, "Screw this shit."

And for once, Takumi felt like Okumura was actually normal.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The next update is on December 7th! (I also haven't been able to actually write anything, so we'll see how second semester goes...)


	17. Geheimnisse

**A/N: **I want to thank everybody for the serious support. Honestly. Look at that grey text under the summary. 1k+ favs and followers? It makes my head spin. Like, that many people are reading this story? I don't think I've grasped that entirely myself.

I would also like to point out that I do have the next chapter written. And that it will be coming. **January 11**, actually (unless you really want me to wait a week to post it on my birthday, which none of you are going to want me to do. Trust me.)

Without further ado, here it is!

* * *

><p>Chapter Seventeen: <em><span>Geheimnisse <span>_

(Secrets)

.

"Aaagh!" Rin yelled, pulling at his hair with his hands. "It was all a test? What does that clownlike bastard mean, it was all a test? I was freaked!"

Bon felt his eyebrow twitch, but restrained the urge to say that all of them had felt 'freaked' and demand what Rin meant by 'they'. As in how many. Because more than one was way too hardcore for his image of Rin to survive. He'd ask later, he told himself. When they weren't confined to this room.

"They fooled us for sure," Renzou said, laughing a little as he did so. He also was eyeing Rin with an odd look in his eye. "Man do we look bad."

Hisoragi leaned against the headboard of the bed that Renzou and Neko were on, injured leg propped up by pillows filched from the extra beds in the room. Rin's demon cat—Bon thought it was a _Nekomata_, or a Cait Sith, but they hadn't yet gotten to that portion in class yet—was curled up against his side and purring contentedly. "Who sets up a test like that?" he moaned. "Who does that? That's just…just…"

"Masochistic!" Rin finished, smacking his fist against his palm. His IV jostled, but he didn't show any discomfort.

The guy's dreadlocks shifted as he pointed a finger in Rin's direction. "Exactly! It's masochistic!"

"The word's _sadistic_, morons!" Bon honestly didn't know how they couldn't know something like that.

Neko sighed and leaned over so that his elbows were propped on his thighs. "I hope I pass," he mourned, and Bon had to sigh at that. It was just…typical Neko.

"No use worrying about it now," he said, blowing a strand of bleached-yellow hair out of his eyes. Damn, his gel was wearing off. "What's done is done."

But, true to form, Neko didn't listen. "Bon and Shima and Rin-san will be fine, but me? I couldn't even stand up!"

"I keep telling you, call me Rin." The mutter was barely audible, but one look at his pouting face told Bon that yes, he had just said that.

(It was so different from the expression on it when he'd run into the room, sword out, demon on shoulder, and looking as panicked and angry as Bon had ever seen the guy.)

"You guys," a voice piped up behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder at Kamiki. "will do fine. Okumura-sensei told us to work together, and you did. Esquires need to cooperate. That means I definitely failed."

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all. "Nah," he said. "You came through in the end—and at least you did better than those yahoos in the back! What do you guys have to say for yourselves, anyways?"

To his frustration, the three just kept going about their business as usual, no guilt dawning on their faces.

"Yes!" Hood-guy said, tone a kind of flat drawl, thumbs pushing against the buttons of his DS. Bon really, really wanted to rip it out of his hands and smash it to itty bitty pieces against the floor. "I got the Lepidosaur's claw. Upgrade, upgrade!"

Octavian spared him just a brief, haughty glance, her heavily applied make-up making it seem like her eyes were more hooded than they really were. "Didn't want to chip my nails," she said, concentrated as she was on examining her fingers for imperfections. "The polish is hard to get on in even coats, and I didn't want all that hard work to go down the drain."

_But you volunteered to go out with Rin!_ Bon wanted to scream. _What, you really did want to go eat his face in some dark corner?_

"Tch! Shut up, you punks! We don't have to say nothing to you!" Puppet-guy said without his lips even moving, and Suguro felt his whole face twist into a snarl.

"Why you," he growled, fist shaking but unwilling to face the hassle of standing up and marching his own IV drip over to where they were and punching the living daylights out of them.

Rin made a noise of appreciation. "Wow! You're a good ventriloquist."

Bon snapped his head around to face him. "And you! Stop encouraging them! They didn't even try to help us, so—"

From the bed where Moriyama lay asleep came a light, just-waking-up hum, and Bon immediately forced himself to be quiet.

"So don't do that!" he finished in a harsh whisper, and Rin rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously.

Moriyama rubbed at her eyes and blinked them open, slow and heavy. They still looked a little sleep fogged as she glanced around. "What's going on?" came out more like 'wazzgoinnon?' and Bon felt a bit of guilt.

"Sorry for waking you up," Rin said, soft the way he only got around Moriyama and, when he was in a lot of pain, Hisoragi.

"'Salright," she mumbled, pushing herself up into a sitting position. It was hard to believe that her tiny self could actually hold off a demon for fifteen, twenty minutes with nothing but her own strength of will. "I got enough rest. What're you talking about?"

"The Exam," Renzou said, an easy smile on his face.

Neko smiled as well. "You outdid all of us!"

Bon looked at the girl who he'd initially believed to be weak and joining Cram School on a whim, and thought of the classmate who'd saved their necks just a couple hours earlier. He thought of her putting herself in the line of fire, of how she held on until she nearly fell unconscious. Without her there, how would they have defeated it? He hadn't known that the death verse was the last one of the Gospel of John.

For a moment, he imagined their bloody, lifeless faces, staring out at nothing with fear etched into the very skin of their features. Even if the teachers had been on standby, all it took was being a second too slow, and…

Bowing, hands gripping his own thighs, he spoke. "I hate to think of what would have happened without you. I thank you with all seriousness."

Moriyama made spluttering noises, and when he raised his head again, he saw that her face had turned red within seconds. She was waving her bandaged hands around frantically. Next to her, Rin was snickering a little. "I—I mean, you were all good too, and all I did was sit around and fall asleep!"

He was about to assure her that no, they might all be dead without her, when Rin burst out with "You look like a tomato!"

"Rin! That's not nice!" She howled, kicking her feet in frustration and puffing out her cheeks.

"In all seriousness, though," Neko said, tone light. "If Moriyama-san doesn't pass, then none of us will!"

"Seconded!" Renzou grinned and made to lean back, but jumped back up with a warning growl from Hisoragi, whose leg he was about to put his weight on. "Haha, sorry."

Bon looked at Rin, who was still snickering unabashedly, and absolutely couldn't fit this image of his friend against the stranger who'd run into the room barking about situations and insinuating that their teacher betrayed them (which, thankfully, he hadn't). It was a little unsettling.

"Hey, Rin-san," Neko began, twiddling his thumbs. "I was wondering about your sword. If you don't mind telling, could you? Tell us, I mean."

The boy got a little twitchy, and his right hand fidgeted with the sweatband on his left wrist. Bon's gaze was pulled to the motion, and he narrowed his eyes in thought. Rin obviously didn't have the sword on him right now, so was it in there? He vaguely remembered reading something about seals and pocket dimensions in his extra time; was this one of those cases?

"Um, erm, my sword?" As he shifted, a hint of leather cord showed from underneath his loose shirt collar, but was covered over with the next shift. "I mean, that…it was a gift? Hey, Neko, what was that thing you were telling me about yesterday? Wasn't it when Bon was little and he decided that he wanted to become a banker?"

Bon rolled his eyes and flushed. It wasn't a bad story, but the ending was a bit embarrassing. "You either know it or you don't, idiot. Quit trying to change the subject."

"You just don't want us to know that you were a dork when you were a kid." Rin stuck his tongue out.

"And you don't want us to know where you got your sword. What, do you not trust us?" Bon said it lightly enough, half-meaning the false hurt his last six words, but the look on Rin's face brought guilt to a bubble in his gut.

"I," Rin looked down at his hands as if there was something on them. "I…I do," he said, his voice very, very small. "I just…"

Bon blinked. "Hey, if it's a big deal, you don't have to tell us now." Even if Bon _really _wanted to know right that minute.

"I'm sorry! I didn't realize that it was that much of a bother, otherwise I wouldn't have asked!" Neko bowed low. "Please forgive me!"

This, of course, prompted Rin to go red in the face, stand up, and wave his hands around in dismay. "No, no, don't bow, it's okay!"

"Rin," Moriyama tugged on his shirt, and the flustered teenager turned around.

Still red-faced, Rin obviously struggled to be a bit quieter. "What? Did you want something? Should I help you up?"

"You," she started, and then smiled. "You look like a tomato!"

Renzou burst out laughing. "Nice one, Shiemi-chan! You got him good!"

Even Hisoragi was snickering at the way that Rin got redder and redder, despite the fact that he looked half-asleep at this point. "You're cool, Moriyama," he said, and she blushed as well.

"Not fair!" Rin cried. "That was foul play, Shiemi!" But he made no move to go away and instead sat down, nudging her shoulder with his good-naturedly. Bon suddenly wondered if, perhaps that girlfriend comment he'd made in front of the fountain back before they were friends actually was something Rin aspired towards.

When they quieted down though, Rin spoke up, still a little pink around the cheekbones. "I…but seriously guys, I'll tell you about the sword. But…" oddly enough, his eyes darted to the back of the room and then towards Bon again. "Later. Not here."

"Sure," Bon shrugged, almost surprised that Rin had brought the subject up himself again. "Works with me."

When he looked back again, not wanting to be subjected to the embarrassing finale to his career choice as a banker, he caught sight of Angelina staring in their direction, gaze frostier than it usually was. Cold, calculating, speculative and this kind of icy fury splayed upon her strong features, and Suguro realized that wait, she wasn't just looking at them, she was looking at _Rin_.

He blinked, and the expression was gone, replaced with utter boredom as she took another cursory glance at her nails, one stocking-clad leg crossed over the other. Maybe he had imagined it, he thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw her continue to watch his friend, sharp and scary, almost predatory. He looked back at Rin and saw how his jaw was a little tense, how both feet were firmly on the ground, how one hand fiddled with the sweatband on his left wrist.

And he wondered.

* * *

><p>Yukio pushed the door to Moriyama's supply shop open, the wood smooth and cool under his fingertips. It wasn't like the floors and the walls in the old Boys' Dorms with their rough surfaces and chapped, exposed grain, and he was grateful that it wasn't. He hadn't been watching his brother during the test.<p>

He wished he had been.

"Welcome!" Shiemi called from the front desk, and when her eyes caught his, she broke off what she was going to say next. "Yuki!"

"Hello, Shiemi," he said, heart growing just a little lighter at the sight of her. The smile that curled his lips just a little bit up was genuine. It was almost enough to forget the chilling, vague conversation he'd just had with his fellow teacher.

"Sorry for being in so late," he apologized. "Is your mother in?"

Cheeks bright red and back ramrod straight, she answered. "She's buying stock for the shop, so I'm watching everything. Did you need anything?"

Yukio smiled a little wider. Shiemi was a breath of fresh air when compared to the politics of the exorcism world, and how much more mind-numbing they got when you had a twin brother who'd inherited Satan's power. "Actually, seeing as you're here," he shifted the binder in his arms so that he could rifle through the papers and pull out Shiemi's agreement to participate in the (disguised) Esquire exam, "I wanted to talk to you about what you wanted to do."

She deflated a little bit. "Oh…"

Apparently she was having more doubts than expected. "Is it okay? Since there aren't any customers around, that is."

"Um, that should be okay." Still red-faced, she stood from the stool behind the counter and pulled a small package of leaves and herbs out from one of the drawers. "Would you like some tea?"

"If it isn't a bother," he returned. "May I take the stool from behind the cabinet?"

"Of course!" She smiled at him. "I wouldn't make you stand to drink tea, would I?"

He chuckled. That was far more forward and teasing than she'd been before. Rin was a good influence on her. "Thank you, Shiemi."

One hand keeping her kimono sleeve out of the way, Shiemi bent over to plug the electric kettle into an ancient socket, the covering tarnished and mottled with age. Yukio frowned at it.

_"I do not agree with your actions during the test. They were clearly out of line for the boundaries laid down and, while the intervention of faculty was possible, you endangered the lives of the students unnecessarily."_

_ Neuhaus-sensei laughed. It was a short, bitter kind of laugh, the one that burned on its way up the throat. "Quit deluding yourself, Okumura-sensei. You weren't half as worried about the students as you were your…brother."_

A rustle of flower-printed cloth pulled him from his thoughts. "I've set the water to boil. What…what exactly did you want to talk to me about?" Judging by the way she spoke, Shiemi already knew what conversation they were about to have.

He slid the questionnaire forward. "You left the section about Meistering empty. I wanted to talk to you to see if that has changed in light of the examination."

Hopefully, it had. Father had been right when he said that they needed somebody like her in the Exorcism community. _We need somebody who likes Rin_, he thought, and felt no shame in admitting that. _I need somebody who is willing to protect him, even if the world turns on him_.

Shiemi was that kind of person—Yukio knew it.

The girl gave a little grin and a shrug. "I wasn't sure what to put down. It was before I met Nii-chan," she pulled the phone to the other side of the desk so that Yukio had space to have his cup of tea, "and before everything else."

Yukio tugged the stool over. "It's understandable. Several students face exactly this sort of problem, especially when they've started out. Students like Rin and Suguro-kun are a rare breed—the kind who know exactly what they want to achieve, and how they want to get there."

There was a pause in the conversation as Shiemi nodded and pulled out one single teacup and saucer for Yukio to use. He noticed that the bandages on her hands were clean, and felt a dash of approval; if she was changing them, then hopefully she was also using an antiseptic every time she did that. Then she spoke. "I…I know that Suguro-san wants to defeat Satan, but…what is Rin's dream?"

He smiled again. "When you get the chance, you should ask him. It's very Rin."

Shiemi looked thoughtful at this, and had opened her mouth to speak again when the whistle on the kettle blew. "Give me a moment!"

"Take your time." As she unplugged the kettle, the whistle died down with a gurgling bubble. Shiemi fiddled with something that Yukio couldn't see—probably the package of leaves and herbs he'd seen earlier and the glass teapot the Moriyamas kept in easy reach for instances such as this one—and hummed to herself absentmindedly.

_"How did you know about that, anyways?"_

_ "Sir Pheles knew that the test would not be rigorous enough for the boy. I was told in order to not hold back on him—to test the limit of his power."_

His eyes closed, Yukio breathed in deep, and let the exhale fall out as slow as he could stand to. When he opened his eyes again, Shiemi had come over, an oven pad between her bandaged palm and the bottom of the teapot and the other hand curled around its simple curved handle.

"Is everything all right?" She asked, worried eyes glancing up and finding his every few moments as she poured out a cup of tea for Yukio. A single leaf slipped through the spout and lay on the top of the infused water.

He nodded. "I had an interesting conversation, is all. It was a lot of food for thought. Shall we…" he gestured with one hand, and then picked up the cup. "Thank you for the tea, by the way."

"Careful," Shiemi warned, sitting down on her own stool, "it's still very hot!"

It was; Yukio had to blow on the surface several times to get a manageable temperature out of the drink, and even then it was just shy of burning his tastebuds off. A tad warmer than he liked it, but enjoyable nevertheless. It was a pleasant sort of bitter, reminiscent of the green tea that the monks at the Monastary made.

"Shiemi," he asked, peering at her through the thick lenses of his glasses, "why did you want to become an exorcist?"

She opened her mouth, and then closed it in thought. After a few quiet moments, she answered, "I…I didn't actually want to be an exorcist when I joined the Cram School. It's part of why I didn't know what to write. It was so embarrassing to leave it blank, but I didn't know!"

Yukio had expected as much. "That's perfectly fine," he said, pleasantly. "The life of an Exorcist isn't for everybody, after all. Do you remember when we first met?"

Instantly, her somewhat calm façade was ruined, the blush returning to her cheeks full-force. "Ah! Yes! I'm sorry, I was so much worse than I am now!"

"Don't apologize," he said, catching her eyes with his. "Never apologize for who you are. You might change over the years, and you might need to change, but never apologize for yourself. Unless," he took another sip of tea, "you yourself have done something so horrible that it affected several lives negatively. But I don't think you need to worry about that."

She reddened a bit more and looked down. "Okay. I'm sorry, Yuki."

"It's fine." He shook his head.

Nevertheless, Shiemi kept looking down, face red and bangs hiding the top portion of her face. She was quiet a moment longer, and Yukio finished the last of the tea in his cup.

_"We must assess his effectiveness as a weapon for the Order—Sir Pheles chose me to, shall we say, step on the gas. To test him."_

_ Anger. Incredulity. "You're looking to use Nii-san as a weapon?"_

_ The man laughed that same, burn-on-the-way-up laugh. "Don't take it so personally, Okumura-sensei. We are all weapons of the Order. Some of us are simply…sharper…than others."_

_ The younger man narrowed his eyes._

Her voice startled him a little when she did speak up. "Yuki, what…why did you become an Exorcist?"

Leaning forward onto one elbow, he thought for a moment. It didn't take long for him to come up with a reason. "I did it to protect Rin."

She looked up. "Huh?"

"You wouldn't know it at first," Yukio said, playing with the empty cup in his left hand, "but I was always the weakest one. I was a horrible crybaby, so Rin always had to help me out."

Her eyes were flitting between each of his, and he could see how it was a bit hard for her to picture Rin protecting him. It was understandable—Shiemi had known him as an Exorcist far longer than she had Rin, and it didn't help matters that he was their teacher. "Really?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. My Nii-san…he could always do what I couldn't. I looked up to him a lot. And I wanted to be able to help him when he fell down, so I became stronger."

It didn't take long for Shiemi to understand, though, and she smiled. "I think that I get that. Rin is my first friend!"

"What, I don't count?" Yukio teased, setting the teacup down and drawing his hand away from it.

Shiemi reddened. "I—I didn't mean it that way, I—um, I meant that—well—"

"It's okay," he said, chuckling. "I was only teasing you."

Her cheeks puffed out as she pouted. "That wasn't very nice at all. You and Rin are both the same that way."

"We're brothers." Yukio smiled, but then he frowned a little. "But teasing you doesn't mean we haven't grown up. Rin may not look like it, but he can be deadly serious when he needs to be. You have to, as an Exorcist."

Emotions played across her face as she looked off to the side, as if remembering something. The blush was fading from her skin. "I…I understand."

"I know you've been working hard to change," and really, he had taken note of her will to follow through with whatever decisions she made, regardless of whether they were social or not in nature, "but you must be aware that it will only get harder from here. You have significant talent as a Tamer, perhaps even as a Doctor, and both of those will require your full attention if you want to keep up in Cram School. You also have to consider the fact that you may risk your life as an Exorcist."

She was biting her lip, but her eyebrows were stern and her eyes were focused on him as she thought it over. He could see the potential within her, could see how far she could go if she stayed with the program. The desire rose up in him to just to order her to continue, so that he could see her evolve and become stronger and stronger, but he squished it down.

"Talk it over with your Mother, and make a decision in the morning," he said instead. If she decided not to, it was a shame, but he respected her too much to make that choice for her.

"Okay," she said, quietly. "I'm sorry for taking so much of your time, you must be very busy."

He smiled. "It's all right," he said, and was reminded starkly of the other conversation he'd held today.

_"You must be busy; so much responsibility at so young an age. I will help you to babysit the Demon."_

"_Rin is not a demon. He is not out of control; you should have seen that today." His fingers twitched down towards his pistol, but he stopped himself. Assaulting a fellow teacher over something like mere words would not be viewed well by his higher-ups, and Father had enough on his plate running interference on the Order for Rin. _

_ Neuhaus sighed and turned his back on Yukio. The younger man bristled at the unspoken insult. "Stand down, Okumura-sensei. I'm not _really_ going to kill him, you know."_

Yukio felt panic start to stir in his gut. Where was Rin right now?

_I'm not _really _going to kill him, you know._

His shoulders relaxed. He was in the dorms, with his classmates—surely Neuhaus wouldn't do anything with witnesses around.

Then he remembered that Rin was going to tuck in early that night, at the same time as Hisoragi-kun. He remembered how drowsy Hisoragi-kun was, knew that nothing would wake the boy once he'd fallen asleep. He remembered that Shima-kun was also going to spend some time with his childhood friends.

The panic rose up his throat even as he stood, stool screeching a few inches behind him from the force. "I'm sorry," he said, even as he pivoted. "I am going to have to go now."

"Yukio?" Shiemi asked. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer her as he pulled his keys from his belt and felt for the one to his room in the dorms, all the while striding over to the door. He fit it into the lock, heart pounding in his ears as he thought of Neuhaus's stance and tone the whole conversation, how bitter and angry and dismissive he was the entire time. Twisting it, he pushed the door open into the darkness of their room and stepped forward a few paces.

"Yuki!" A hiss came from his side, and his hand slid over her mouth effortlessly. The door shut behind them, all warm light cut off and leaving him feeling almost cold. The glow of the moon was limited to a strip the width of his hand, crawling across the desk and the wooden floorboards.

He glanced over to the left, his eyes adjusting quickly to the relative lack of illumination. The bundle of sheets and blankets rose and fell rhythmically, and he could see the strands of dreadlocks that fell across the mattress. Good. Hisoragi-kun was unharmed and undisturbed.

_But Rin_, he thought. _Rin_.

Something wet swiped across the palm of his hand and he snatched it away, whirling around to face Shiemi. Did she just _lick_ him? "What?" he asked, voice a harsh whisper.

"What's wrong?" she countered, folding her arms over her chest. Her summons did the same from his perch on her shoulder. In any other circumstance, it would have been adorable to see. "Why did you stalk off so fast?"

"I had a bad feeling," he said instead, and looked up onto the top bunk. For one heart-wrenching moment, he saw his brother's slack face, and thought that he'd been too late. That he'd failed, and how was he supposed to explain to Father that Rin was _dead_?

Then Rin let out a loud, obnoxious snore.

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, Yukio stepped over and raised his hands to slide them under Rin's shoulders. They were broad with years of _kenjutsu_, the swordplay testing and strengthening the muscles of his body. For all his wiry strength, though, his big brother looked small in sleep, the way that all humans did. His dumb, drooling face didn't help the aura of defenselessness that surrounded him, but it did elicit just the smallest smirk from Yukio. Some things just never changed.

As Yukio started to pull Rin off the bed, Rin stirred a little. "It's just me, Nii-san," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmmmmmkay…" he mumbled, and went limp. As strong as Yukio was, and as short as Rin was, it was still a struggle not to drop his brother. For a moment, he felt himself losing his grip, and he winced as he imagined the thick sound his brother's head would make as it hit the floor. But two hands reached up to support the rest of Rin's body, and Yukio blinked at Shiemi in surprise. He regained his hold.

"If you're worried," she said, still quiet, "then it must be serious."

He felt a surge of affection for her. "Thank you," he said as they both manhandled Rin into a stooped-over, drooling mess. "Can I bother you to take Rin to the Academy?"

"Sure!" She moved so that she was underneath the boy and pulled a key out from the folds of her _obi_. "I can do it!"

It was quite a picture, a smiling, young girl like Shiemi holding up a boy far larger and far heavier than herself, his drool inching down his face and threatening to touch Shiemi's flower-patterned kimono. Her summons was clinging to her hair and had sent down several leaves to try to stop her clothing from getting soaked with saliva. _How conscientious, _Yukio thought, and figured that even if Shiemi didn't continue with Cram School, at least she would have a companion to protect her and keep her happy.

"Thank you," he said again. "Just drag him down as far as you can and get into one of the classrooms. Hide. Be quiet. Try to let him sleep."

She hesitated for a moment, but then just nodded in determination and shuffled forward, dragging Rin's dead weight to the door. After turning the key in the lock she slid it open and made her way through the gap.

The door closed.

After arranging a few pillows—his own included—under Rin's blanket and sheets so that they vaguely resembled a body, he moved to his closet. After all, while he was working off his gut instinct that Neuhaus-sensei meant ill towards his Nii-san, that didn't mean that this would he accepted by anybody else as a good reason. He had to catch Neuhaus in the act.

So he hid.

Not even five minutes later by the count of his wristwatch, the door opened again. The lights were not turned on; it couldn't be Shima-kun. Peering out the crack in the closet door, Yukio spied a tall, cloaked figure advancing on Rin's bed. In his left hand was a long, thin blade, moonlight from the cracked-open curtains glinting off the silver ominously.

The man looked back at the second bed, where Hisoragi-kun lay, and the eyepatch on his face was all too familiar. Yukio's gaze narrowed. _He wouldn't_, he thought, but something curled in his stomach and he wasn't so sure to what lengths the other teacher would go anymore. There was a pause, and then Neuhuas turned around.

Blade—it was almost a sword, but lacked any edge—held low, the teacher stepped forward, deftly avoiding the creaky floorboard a meter away from the bunk beds, and Yukio felt something cold slither down his spine. The teacher then positioned the blade underneath the top bunk, and sunk it hilt-deep into the bottom of the mattress. Once.

And then again.

By the third time, Yukio had slunk out of the closet and had his pistol pointed at Neuhaus-sensei's head. Point blank. _I will not miss_.

"I thought you weren't going to kill him," he said, soft and angry and dangerous, "Neuhaus-sensei."

He let out that bitter, huffing chuckle again. "Well done, Okumura-sensei. As expected of a genius."

Before Yukio could ask any questions or pull the trigger, Neuhaus-sensei ducked and pushed the younger Okumura to the side, pulling his key ring out and selecting one with what could only be deliberation. As Yukio rebounded from where he'd been shoved into the desk, he aimed and fired, the shot just barely missing Neuhaus-sensei's head and hitting the wood thanks to a very sharp evasive movement on the other teacher's part. But the key was turned in the lock and the door opened, and Neuhaus-sensei stepped through.

Yukio followed through without a second thought, because Hisoragi-kun had startled with a yell when he'd fired, and giving Neuhaus-sensei the advantage of choosing the setting of conflict was better than putting a student in the crossfire. Once he stepped through the door, firing shot after shot at Neuhaus-sensei's retreating back, though, he paled.

_Goddammit, why couldn't it have been any key but this one?_

As Neuhaus-sensei shoved up his left sleeve and drew blood from that summoning-circle tattooed arm, he kicked aside a desk that could only have belonged to a Cram School classroom. The man grinned.

"My turn," Neuhaus-sensei said, and his hands flew forward.

* * *

><p>Rin woke because it was kind of cold. Strange, since he'd nicked an extra blanket from Bon because he didn't like feeling like he was freezing all of his arm-hair off, and he didn't much appreciate that extra measure not showing any results.<p>

Except his head was warm. Even if his pillow was a bit hard and lumpy. He reached up to pat it back into shape, but the action only got him a squeak of surprise in return. Shrugging, he just resigned himself to being cold and having a lumpy, if warm, pillow.

Ten seconds later, he registered the fact that his pillow had squeaked.

He shot up so fast that he swore that even Shura-sensei would have been impressed. It took a moment for him to register more than a general outline of the figure whose lap he'd been laying on (and wasn't that embarrassing?), and when he realized who it was, he flushed.

"Shiemi?" He said and no, no that was _not_ a squeak. At all.

She leaned forward and held a bare finger up to her lips. "Sssh! We have to be quiet, Yukio said so!"

"What's going on?" There was an honest attempt to be serious, but he kept having flashbacks about his head being in her lap. His cheeks felt really, really hot.

"Yuki had me bring you in here. He was really worried about you, I don't' know why." She twisted her kimono, nervous and afraid. He zeroed in on that.

"Where is here?" Just a little bit, he felt himself calm down. Looking around revealed that they were in the corner of a room, behind stacks and stacks of…boxes?

Shiemi shuffled a little closer, still on her knees. Something small popped out of her hair, and Rin was only able to vaguely remember that she had a summons. "We're in the Academy. I found an abandoned classroom to hide in. Yukio told me to. And…I think something's going on. I keep hearing stuff."

Everything else fell away at this. "Yukio told you to hide?"

She nodded. "He got this really scary look on his face, almost like the one that—"

Gunshots snapped outside, and Rin stood, fully alert and ready to move. His eyes snapped back and forth across the room, and he stilled, straining to hear where the bullets were being fired. The massive bruise he called his back still throbbed a little, but it was nothing compared to what it had felt like a few hours earlier.

"Rin?"

It was down the hall, to his right. And if Yukio'd told Shiemi to hide, and if he'd gotten Rin out of his room, and if there were bullets flying everywhere…_He's in trouble_. With that in mind, he started to make his way down the path that had been cut between the boxes—probably by Shiemi when she had pulled him back here.

"Rin!" Her hand grasped his wrist, and he turned back. Her face was pinched with worry, the corners of her lips drawn down. "What are you doing?"

"Goin' to help Yukio," he said, and turned to face her. He pulled her hand off his wrist and held her hands. _Don't think about how small they are don't think about how you're holding her hands just don't do that no, no, no! You are cool, you are cool, you are not going to blush anymore._ Nevertheless, he felt his cheeks burn just a little bit. "You stay here, Shiemi—me 'n Yukio'll take down whatever's out there."

He let go of her hands and turned on his toe, navigating his way out of the room as fast as he could manage. Shiemi hissed something, but he didn't hear it over the pounding of his heart and the yelling going on down the hall. _He's okay_, he told himself. _As long as you still hear gunfire, he's okay._

Slipping out of the slightly-ajar door, Rin flattened himself against the wall and looked down the hallway. It was a little dark and eerie at night, and further down than he was used to venturing for classes. The ceiling loomed above him, cast in shadow, the detailed scrolling at the top nowhere near visible due to lack of light. _Hell_, he thought, _Kuro could have fit in here._

Damn, he wished Kuro was here.

A cry echoed down the walls, bouncing off of wood and drywall and porcelain tile. "…Mephisto-san's order too?"

"Yukio," Rin breathed, and took off, running pace as silent as Shura-sensei had ever taught him. Arms pumping and heart roaring in his ears, he was unable to make out any noise other than voices yelling—Yukio, and somebody else who seemed familiar in a niggling, sinking way—and gunshots. They too echoed around him.

There was light coming out of one of the foremost classrooms—_the one that we use for Tamer classes_, Rin realized somewhere in the back of his mind—and it seemed that it was also the source of the fighting. He slowed to a jog once he was about ten meters away; after all, rushing in without taking stock of the situation would do him no favors.

Rin sidled up to the doorframe and glanced around the corner, trying as hard as he could to not let a great amount of his body show over the edge. His right hand gripping the edge, he felt a snarl tug at his nose as he took the situation in.

"…wheresoever the body lays, there will eagles refuse to gather in communion!"

That _bastard_. That _bastard_ bleeding all over the floor into a summoning circle, desks shoved to the side and broken into bits and bits and pieces. That _bastard_, who dared to smirk and chuckle at his crouching, bloodied brother.

_Fuck this look before you leap thing_ was what Rin thought, but when he tensed to move in, this huge, bulging-muscles ghoul came climbing out of the ground, its head mere centimeters away from the ceiling. _Well shit_.

"This," Neuhaus-bastard gloated from his position out of sight behind his summons, "is the highest form of Naberius! The strongest of my pieces!"

Casting a critical eye over its figure, Rin clenched his jaw in thought. He maneuvered around so that he was standing on the side of the doorway furthest from the chalkboard; Yukio was already in that area, and there was no sense crowding him. _Several hands; long large one closest to me is offensive, the short large one defensive. Small hands around the mouth are meant for grabbing and…_he grimaced_, probably to hold people while the ghoul bites their heads off. Ew. _

_Body is large, legs are small—isn't meant for any great mobility. Strength is its strongest point, not speed. What the hell are those multiple heads for anyways?_

He was about to think that one through, his right hand already poised over the seal for Tsunagiri, but it was at that moment that Yukio stood, gun aimed at the beast. The beast, in return, did exactly what Rin hoped it wouldn't. It smacked into Yukio and sent him flying into the chalkboard.

"Tsunagiri, out!" Rin snarled, and took five sprinting strides over to the being, ducking low and lashing out quicksilver-fast with the etched blade. It took only the barest half-thought to bring his flames to life, to send them flickering down past the guard and down the blade. They lit up the runes a hot, brilliant blue-white, and the already keen-blade sunk into the summon's decomposing flesh with more ease than Rin had ever felt before. The flames licked up both sides of the severed flesh, one set consuming the withered foot, the other traveling up the exposed stump, grey matter turning a horrid red-black as it burned.

The smell was worth retching over, and it was enough to put Rin off balance for the space of a few seconds. The summons swayed and wailed in pain.

"You filthy demon!" Neuhaus-bastard roared, and Rin was only barely able to roll away from the summons as the teacher pulled something out and…water came out?

Rin remembered that any water that Exorcists used in fighting was going to be of the holy variety. The bit of spray that hit him didn't do much other than sting a little and cause a bit of a rash. He called his flames down to cover the exposed skin of his arms and hands, and stared up into the face of his former teacher.

"I knew you were the enemy," he said, and it drummed up his chest, over the walls of his windpipe and out the corners of his mouth, pressed tight as it was. "You damn bastard."

"You look remarkably human," Neuhaus-bastard sneered, his visible eye glinting in the blue glow of Rin's birthright, "but no human would burn like you do, no human would be burned by holy water like you have been! Your nature betrays you, demon!"

"My brother," Yukio interjected, a hitch in his voice that worried Rin enough that he glanced to look at his brother. The younger of the two was hunched over, wincing a little behind his glasses. "My Nii-san is no demon."

"You're right," Neuhaus-bastard said, and Rin blinked. He did not lower his guard, though; he'd already learned that lesson today. As it was, he had to nearly flatten himself to the ground in order to avoid the swipe of the summons, whose motions echoed Neuhaus-bastard's suddenly outstretched hand. _Thing's faster than I thought._

"He is a _monster_."

They had to get rid of the demon if they wanted to get to Neuhaus-bastard, Rin realized. He caught Yukio's eye as he spun backwards, dodging yet another grab from the summons, and slashed forward with his blade. It recoiled with a gruesome cry, the horrid stench of flaming flesh still hanging like a thick shroud in the air. "Yukio!"

"On it!" his brother returned, and as the being wobbled, its sudden motions already threatening to upset its balance (only having one leg can do that to you, and a tail can only do so much), Yukio took two paces forward. His foot lashed out and swept across the intricate chalk circle drawn on top of the floorboards, and the Naberius vanished in a flash of smoke.

Neuhaus-bastard's lip rose in a snarl, and he went to raise his sluggishly bleeding arm. "Tch. That was—"

It did not take but those few moments for Rin to dash forward and slide to a halt, his sword tucked under Neuhaus-bastard's chin, right above the adam's apple. It bobbed, and his former teacher suddenly stopped speaking, visible eye wide.

"What are you," Rin asked, except it came out as less of a question and more of a statement. "You call me monster, but what kind of teacher puts the rest of their fucking normal students in danger just so that he can...make sure of something?"

Neuhaus-bastard went to summon something else—those were circle tattoos on his arms, and Rin didn't think that letting him have access to anything more than what he'd already pulled out of his ass was a great idea. So he pressed Tsunagiri's thin edge forward and willed his flames to crawl against the skin, to burn the hair of the throat but nothing else.

"I…" he began, and swallowed again, a grin creeping across his face. "I am a survivor of the Blue Night."

Rin felt his eyes widen.

"But should you really be worried about that?" Neuhaus-bastard chuckled, and there was a hint of triumph in it that made something thick settle in his gut. "Do you really need to be worried about why I want to cleanse the world of the foulest blood to grace this earth when your ruse is about to fall apart?"

"What do you mean?" Rin frowned.

Neuhaus-bastard only laughed again, tipping his head back. "After all," he howled, "you can't hide what you are if somebody sees, can you?"

Across the room, Yukio drew in a harsh breath.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Rin roared. "Quit fooling around and tell me clearly!"

There was a shuffle behind him, and Rin stilled, sword drooping a little. The voice that called out was abnormally loud in the sudden silence, and he could feel his heart drop out of his chest as he recognized it.

"Rin?"

He turned.

Standing in the doorway, her bright, flower-patterned kimono smudged with dust and dirt and a little Greenman perched in her hair, Shiemi stared at him. Shock and fear were clearly visible in her features, and her hands were limp at her sides.

Blue light illuminated her face, and he saw himself—bright, flaming, a sword to the neck of a teacher—in her wide, green eyes.

The world crashed down.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I want you to know that I cackled the whole time I wrote the last few hundred words. And that I'm not sorry about it.

(please don't kill me)


	18. Verständnis

A/N: A couple of you had the right idea with how this was all going to go down. But that's okay, I know that the enormity of the moment (for Rin) blindsided a lot of people and get that.

We're starting to dip our toes into the changes and the larger story; as it is, I'm probably going to have to end VA and start another story because otherwise this is going to get WAY too big. Just to let you guys know.

Chapter 20, on that note, has been like PULLING TEETH and I have a kind-of plan for the next chapter, but just haven't sat down and written it. I had to scrap half of what I had written because it just wasn't working, so...yeah. Slow going. I likely won't have it done in time for the next update, but we'll see how it all works out.

Anyways, enjoy, and thank you all for following and favoriting and reading and reviewing because you have no idea how happy it makes me! Chapter 19 will be posted on **February 15th**.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eighteen: <em><span>Verständnis<span>_

(Understanding)

.

Shiemi took a step forward, hand stretched out towards Rin. "Rin!" She cried, watching him navigate the stacks of old junk and disappear out the door. Frustration welled up inside her, and she stomped her foot in childish anger.

"What do you mean, stay here? I'm not…I'm not weak!" she grumbled, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout. But she didn't move from where she stood, socked feet almost rooted to the ground. Both Yukio and Rin had told her that she should stay put, that she should stay safe. Perhaps they were right? The situation might be too much for her to handle. Then again, she had just successfully held off one demon for _ages_, and she couldn't think of any situation scarier than that!

Huffing, she crossed her arms. "Should I?" she asked herself out loud, eyeing the open door at the front of the room.

"Nii!" her summons squeaked, and she felt him hop up and down on her head.

She looked up just a little bit, a smile spreading across her face. "You think so?"

After a moment, he clambered just past her hairline and nodded enthusiastically, smiling just as much as she was.

Mind made up, she made a fist and pumped her arm. "All right, then, I'm going after them!"

At a squeaky cry from Nii-chan, she moved as quickly as she could through the clutter. Thankfully, she'd been able to clear a hasty path through the stacks by more or less pushing them aside with her own body weight. It had helped that there had been several stretches between blockages that were just clear space. This meant that it didn't take her very long to leave the classroom.

There was light spilling out from one of the classrooms near the front of the hallway; if memory served her correctly, it was Neuhaus-sensei's. The light spilling out was a strange mix of yellow and blue, but it wasn't anything that made her worry much. The room seemed to be the source of the commotion.

_I have to help Yukio and Rin,_ Shiemi thought, and made her way down the hallway at as silent a pace as she could manage. She was amazed by how quiet she felt; even if it had been dead silent, she thought that she wouldn't feel any louder. As she stepped across the floor from toe to heel, she giggled to herself despite the seriousness of the situation. It was like she was a ninja!

A roar from down the hall jerked her out of her introspections. She hadn't caught all the words, but the voice was deep and the tone was angry. It also didn't sound like either Rin or Yukio, so perhaps it was somebody they were fighting with?

"Nii?"

"Shhh, Nii-chan." As she reached up and soothed her summons, she decided that haste was probably more important than actually remaining quiet. The closer she got to the room, the louder it got, so she reasoned that it would be very, very loud to the people in there.

_I wonder what they're up against_. The girl pursed her lips and shuffle-ran forward, constricted by the very nature of her kimono. They were all she'd ever worn, but now…the comment Yuki had made about growing up echoed in the back of her head, and she wondered if she should go for something that allowed her more movement.

"Yukio!" The cry filtered out from the room when she was about three meters away, and Shiemi tried to quicken her step. Unfortunately, she tried to stretch her legs too far apart and tripped due to her kimono skirt. Hitting the ground hard with her hands and knees, she had to bite back the gasp of pain

_It stings!_ She settled back on her knees and winced at how they pulsed unpleasantly. Tipping her hands towards the light so she could see, Shiemi studied the bandages on her palms. They were dirty and a little out of place from the force of the fall, but otherwise they seemed to be holding up well. As they should! She had practiced for hours to make sure that they wouldn't unravel every time she flexed her bare fingers.

"Nii!"

Shiemi nodded. "You're right, Nii-chan. I can't just sit around here. This…this is nothing!"

She rose to her feet and glared at her kimono. This was the second time in the past week that she'd fallen because of the dratted thing! Once she had the chance, it was definitely going!

As she moved forward, Shiemi realized that it was suddenly very quiet in the room, aside from the murmur of voices and an odd, ghostly crackle…almost like fire? But that couldn't be right—there was no heat coming out from the room. Puzzled and a bit wary, Shiemi ran through a list of potentially useful plants in her head as she stepped into the room and opened her mouth so that she'd be able to tell Nii-chan what to pull out as soon as she knew what was going on.

Before she could utter a sound, she saw Rin. Rin; sweet, gentle, kind Rin, with that odd sword to Neuhaus-sensei's throat and an angry, dangerous expression on his face. Rin, the one who'd burned his hand on the warded gate but showed no demonic evil in his grin or his eyes, was shrouded in blue, blue flames that flickered and coated the front of Neuhaus-sensei's throat.

She took a step forward, her hands falling down to her sides and her mouth open in shock. The movement must have caught Neuhaus-sensei's attention, because his gaze snapped to her and he looked surprised, and then darkly amused. He opened his mouth, but what came out made no sense.

Rin also spoke, but she was too distracted by how angry and violent he sounded, how his face curled and snarled up into something unrecognizable. She could only see the monster wearing Rin's skin, could only see horrid blue flames casting eerie shadows over the contours of his face and how the blade of his sword pressed into their teacher's throat without hesitation.

It made her take that step back, and then another. Rin grew suddenly still, and the blade dropped a little bit. She froze. Maybe…

"Rin?" She called out, and no matter what she wished, her voice trembled.

He turned his head, and she saw everything. The horror, the guilt, the shock. They played across his still-strangely illuminated face, but what struck her most was the fear.

Rin had never been afraid before. He hadn't been afraid of the Dekalp, hadn't been afraid of the Naberius, hadn't been afraid of dying. But here he was, afraid of…_of me?_ She thought.

There was part of her that wanted to immediately deny it, to say that _he's a demon he's just been playing with you_. She looked at the blue flames, remembered Suguro-san's declaration, remembered the lectures on the Blue Night, and thought that she might understand where their fear came from. Then she focused on his face just a little more, and thought that his fear ran deeper than hers did. He was terrified. He was terrified because…the demon gate flashed before her again, and his burned hand, and these blue flames, and the nervous laughter as he tried to hide his hand. She stared at that frozen, horrified face a while longer, and knew that she'd been right that first day in the garden.

The flames blipped out of existence.

"Nii-san!" Yukio cried, and Shiemi's attention snapped to Neuhaus-sensei, and the way his left hand lashed forward and a…a severed hand shot out and smacked into Rin's half-turned stomach.

She gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth, and Neuhaus-sensei looked at her. "Do not be fooled, Moriyama-san," he said, and she could _see_ the madness in his eye. "He may look human, but this being is but another demon to be exorcised!"

There was gunfire, but with another slash of his hand, Neuhaus-sensei sent out more of the creepy hands to take out Yukio. She cried out this time and stepped towards her long time…idol? Friend?

"And any who cannot see that," Neuhaus-sensei said, "do not deserve any lesser punishment."

"Why?" She burst out, hands fisted at her sides. "Because—because he's got Satan's fire? Because he was born?"

Neuhaus-sensei gave her a hard, long look, as both Okumura brothers lay on the ground, one grappling his opponents, the other tugging on the summoned hand buried in his side and choking on his own blood. The man sighed, and spread his arms. "I suppose it can't be helped; you're too naïve, Moriyama-san. Sometimes, the worst crime _is_ to exist."

Almost uncharacteristic anger bubbled up in her chest. There was a staccato burst of gunfire to the side. "So, he should have killed himself? He is guilty for living when he has…" she gestured, not trusting herself to blow. Shiemi felt Nii-chan shift on her head, and she imagined him puffing up in preparation for an attack.

"Exactly. I am glad that you, at least, see reason." Neuhaus-sensei chuckled, even as he staggered forward; he must be weak from summoning so many things, and from the blood loss. She felt a flash of worry—he must be close to fainting at this rate—but narrowed her eyes. That wasn't her immediate concern.

"Nii-chan," she said, and oh dear, was she almost growling? That wasn't very lady-like of her. "Ooma-ooma."

This time, the plant crackled and whooshed out as fast as her arms flew forward as she did the unthinkable; she attacked her teacher. His one good eye widened, and he almost escaped the grasp of her plant in an incredible burst of speed before Ooma-ooma reached him, grew around him, and restrained his motions.

"You," he snarled, twisted up between the branches of her Ooma-ooma. "You as well, Moriyama-san? You would protect the demon?"

"Rin's not a demon!" She could already feel the sweat beading on her forehead as she held him still. Perhaps she wasn't as recovered as she had first thought. "Rin is Rin!"

Yukio grunted to her right, and there was a flurry of gunshots—Shiemi didn't count, but she didn't think that it was more than ten—that rang through the air. Neuhaus-sensei snarled and tried to fight his way out of the mess of branches, but his face was lily-white and he couldn't twist his arms around to summon anything else.

"Moriyama-san!" Neuhaus-sensei gasped out. "Let me show you the truth! You saw the demon's wrath, the way he was going to kill me. You can't just ignore that!"

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she concentrated on not bending. She would not push further—no, that was cruel and wrong—but she would not be swayed. Glancing over at Rin's prone form on the ground, she saw that he had managed to pull the hand out of his side and was casting his bloody hand out for something. His fingers patted the ground and left red smears on the ground.

"You're angry too, aren't you? You were…you were going to kill Rin too, weren't you?" She asked.

Neuhaus-sensei froze, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was harsh breathing and the rustle of clothing as Yukio struggled to his feet.

"I think," she started, and she looked at Rin. He was staring at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving. It was sad that he was so surprised. "I think that what should matter is how somebody acts, not…not how they were born."

She turned her gaze back to Neuhaus-sensei, who was looking as if he'd never seen anything like her before. There was a kind of metal clacking and rustling to her left, and she guessed that Yukio was changing out his ammunition.

"But he's…" Neuhaus-sensei began.

Shiemi stomped her foot and crossed her arms. Nii-chan shifted above her. "He's part demon? So he has to be bad? That's just silly! You both looked like you were just as angry as each other, so are you both just as bad as each other?"

"But—"

Tilting her head up, she interrupted him again. Where were her manners going? An embarrassed flush rose in her cheeks. "But nothing! It's not parents that make you evil, it's actions! Rin hasn't done anything to deserve to be called a demon. And I don't think you have either, so stop acting as though you should!"

Neuhaus-sensei was quiet, his jaw just slightly open.

"Besides, my Nii-chan isn't evil, but he's a demon too—why can't demons be good as well? Your whole argument is silly!"

Yukio gave a strained chuckle, and she looked over at him. "Well said, Shiemi, well said. Neuhaus-sensei," he turned his attention to Neuhaus-sensei, and Shiemi noticed how shallow Yukio's breaths were. That didn't seem right. "I am going to shoot you with a tranquilizer dart. It will help to stop your struggling from incurring any further blood loss, and we will call a medic to treat your injuries. I am afraid that I will do this with or without your consent."

Neuhaus-sensei gave a really, really dark scowl at that. He didn't really have any time to say anything, though, because Yukio raised his gun and fired once, hitting Neuhaus-sensei in the shoulder. The tranquilizer worked quickly, because it took only a few seconds for his visible eye to flutter closed and his body to relax completely.

"Nii-chan," she said, "could you please pull Ooma-ooma back really, really carefully? I don't want him to hit his head."

He squeaked out an affirmative, and the branches withdrew, pulling back and lowering Neuhaus-sensei's unconscious body to the floor chest-down. His head was turned to the side so that it wasn't so hard for him to breathe, and Shiemi let out a sigh of relief as the Ooma-ooma retreated fully. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"That was well handled, Shiemi," Yukio said, a hand on her shoulder and a smile on his face. His face looked almost as pale as Neuhaus-sensei's did, and the corners of his eyes were tight in pain.

She frowned, and pointed at the ground. "Go lay down and quit moving. You're hurt."

Yukio's eyebrows lifted.

"I have to make sure that Rin's okay, go lay down and…and call your medic!" She turned, dislodging the hand on her shoulder and putting her hands on her hips.

He laughed a little. "All right, all right, I'm laying down. Do you mind helping me there? It might take a bit of work."

Nodding, Shiemi gripped his arms tight as he first folded his legs down so that he was kneeling, and then stepped forward just a couple paces with him as he lay down on the ground completely.

"Thanks," he said, a little breathless even from just laying down. Shiemi frowned, and thought it a bit abnormal. "I'm calling for help now."

As he pulled out his cell phone, Shiemi turned around and marched over to where Rin lay on the ground, eyes closed and breathing slowly. They weren't the smooth, quick breaths of somebody trying to avoid pain, like Yukio, but rather the breaths of a person trying to calm down.

She kneeled by his side. "Rin?"

Cracking his eyes open, he made eye contact for a split second before he glanced away, self-hatred and guilt on his face. His left arm—the arm closest to Shiemi—covered his eyes, the crook of his elbow directly over the bridge of his nose. "You must hate me."

"Never," she said. Oh dear, those were tears welling up in her eyes, weren't they? "I would never hate you, Rin."

His arm lifted slightly, and his teary, wide eyes found hers. "But I…"

"But nothing!" She folded her arms over her chest. Behind her, Yukio's voice was a quiet, calming murmur. "You're my friend. It's not like I didn't know you were at least partially demon, anyways."

The expression she saw on his face looked a lot like the one he wore in Scripture class. "How?"

"You were burned by the gate," she said, and was about to add something to that when his torso shifted and her attention was drawn back to the bloody mess of the bottom of his shirt, how the ghoul-hand had punched through the thin cotton and into his side. "Ah! The temptaint!"

Rin looked a little startled. "What?"

Without further ado, she'd shoved Rin's shirt up. "Nii-chan, I need Sancho!"

"Huh? Um, I mean, it should be fine, seriously, I'm really feeling a lot better than Yukio looks, I don't think—"

"Hush!" Plucking a leaf from Nii-chan's bundle, she ripped it apart the way she had for Paku-san and set them on Rin's wound. It didn't look half as bad as Paku's had, but better safe than sorry!

Mouth shut, Rin propped himself up on his forearms. She hissed at him to get down, but he didn't listen to _that_.

"Seriously, though," he murmured, finally breaking her first order when she had finished laying the Sancho on his wound. She looked up at him. "Why don't you hate me? I'm…I'm Satan's, y'know…"

Shiemi looked down at him, and remembered the fear on his face when he'd seen her standing in the doorway, and made a decision. Slowly, like she would with a scared animal, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her forehead in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

She could hear his heart pounding away like raindrops on her windowsill moments before a thunderstorm, the tension stretching and mounting before eventually snapping. And after a few nearly-silent moments, he did.

Head bowed so that his chin was tucked over her shoulder, his nose brushing the side of her head, Rin started crying—sobbing, really—and one arm came up and around to return the hug. He sagged, and she shifted to accommodate the extra weight. As tears started to soak into her hair and trickle down the side of her neck, Shiemi felt Nii-chan move around so that he was touching both of them, his tiny, stumpy arms embracing them as much as he could.

"Thank you," Rin mumbled, voice thick with tears. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." His fingers dug into her side a little painfully, but she didn't mind. "Thank you."

She just tightened her hold on him, afraid that he would collapse if she let go but trusting that he wouldn't all at the same time. Something bloomed in her chest, and she knew that there was no way that she could go back to a life without Nii-chan and Yukio and a brilliant blue Rin. "Ssh," she hushed. "It's fine, Rin. It's fine. I'll stay. I've decided to stay. I won't leave you."

Not now. Not ever.

* * *

><p>Just as she had almost gotten past the level's Boss fight, her DS was jerked out of her hands. "Hey!" she yelled, head snapping up to glare at her roommate and partner-in-spy. "I was so close! Get yer hands off my game and gimme it back!"<p>

Angel leveled just as angry a glare at her as he'd ever done. "Not until you answer why you sabotaged my reconnaissance attempt last night during the examination."

With a snicker, Shura flopped back onto her bed and tilted her head at the fuming Knight. "Damn, that was right hilarious, wasn't it? The look on yer face!"

He flushed, his face contorted between anger and embarrassment. "It was unnecessary and demeaning! I did not see the point to your juvenile behavior, and I still do not. Tell me, why did you ruin my chances of seeing what happened?"

Shura sighed and turned around so that she was on her side, propped up on her elbow. "Tell me, Angelkins, how have we been acting the past few months?"

"What does this have to do with anything?"

God, he was so uptight sometimes. "Jus' humor me."

He huffed and balanced his weight on one hip, arms crossed over his chest. "We agreed that while posing as normal students and trying to interact with the other members of the classroom may indeed reap more results than simply sitting back and observing, that the latter held a smaller chance of revealing our identities. I am still, by the way, very upset that you would not let me pose as a burgeoning talent waiting to be discovered in the art of swordplay. Nevertheless, I acknowledged that it would be unlikely that a rookie would be able to display such aptitude with a blade, and that pulling out Excalibur would be…as you called it, suicide. I still do not see what this has to do with attempting to get a closer look at our suspect."

Eyebrows raised, she stared at him. "Angel. Yer actin' like a dictionary again."

Pursing his lips, he tilted his head up and looked down at her. "It's a _thesaurus_. And we were supposed to 'lay low'."

"Okay. Now, we've been layin' low, right? We're the weird kids who don't talk to nobody. Think 'bout what yer did from the other kids' point of views."

"That still—" Angel cut himself off and furrowed his eyebrows. She could see the moment, only a few seconds later, when he understood, and his mouth half-opened in sudden realization.

Ha. She won. "'Xactly."

"Oh. I…" his understanding expression fell away as anger took its place. "You still didn't need to do _that_!"

"Oh?" Shura rolled onto her back and arched it, sighing in relief as she felt her spine crack pleasantly. "It made 'em stop thinkin' bout how yer weren't actin' quite normal. I think it did good!"

Angel fumed, but huffed and sat down on her legs. Shura glared, and wrenched them out from under him before kicking at his back. As he caught the blow with one hand, she realized that his nails were still a little sparkly. "This all has just made me never, ever want to have contact with them as my glorious self. I will reiterate; I will not be the one to break cover for these brats."

Sometimes she thought that she might break it, just so that she could buy beer and drink it in peace. But no, part of the stipulation of being on the job was no alcohol of _any_ kind. The things she did for her apprentice.

"Right then," she drawled, and settled for digging her knees into his side. "We done? 'Coz I want my game back."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't contest handing the system over. "Okay. We do, however, need to talk about the sword that Okumura brought back."

After snatching the game console back, she looked at it with mournful eyes and promised that she would return to beat that stupid boss and be one step closer to saving the world. But right now, she had a situation to diffuse; mainly, Angel's suspicion that everything Okumura did was a sign of demonic blood. "Fine. It was a bit…odd, I'll say."

"I am not an expert in eastern blades," Angel began, scooching back so that he could lean against the wall. Shura took the invitation to stretch her legs over his. She even was nice and didn't dig her heel too close to his crotch for comfort. "However, I will say that most weapons do not have etched runes. To have that done is expensive."

"Yeah, his daddy's Mr. Paladin, we know that."

He nodded. "I am under no delusion that Okumura stole anything. My point is actually this: what purpose do the runes serve?"

_Red alert red alert red alert._ This was not good—Angel wasn't great with runes, but he was decent. If he'd seen enough of the things, he probably could piece their purpose together and wouldn't that be hard to explain. Actually, she'd better assume as if he had done just that and cast doubt on that particular thought. "If they're fer what we think they're fer," she said slowly, "then there has to've been something about princeliness or holiness or unholiness or what have yer."

Angel made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "I didn't see any of those, but I was unable to glean anything much from the sword itself. He was moving around and my view was blocked, so all I saw was something that could have been a cross."

She frowned and shifted her gaze from the ceiling to her partner. "Yer sure? I mean, I didn't see nothing like that."

The sad thing was, that was true—and rather pathetic for how good Shura was with that sort of thing. And even though she was known as a very talented sealmaster, she also couldn't claim ownership over the seals on the sword she commissioned for Rin. Sure, she helped bridge and arrange a few of the seals and symbols, but Fuji was the ultimate brains behind that particular piece of beauty. Of course, Shura would swear off revealing, comfortable attire before she'd actually let Angel know that there was somebody better than her at seals.

He glared at her. "As close to perfection as I am, I still am not without weakness, no matter how small or otherwise unimportant."

Lifting her hands up, palms towards Angel, Shura rolled her eyes. "Angel, yer really sensitive. I didn' mean nothing by it."

His arms crossed over his shoulders, he closed his eyes and sighed. "I know you didn't, but…it's frustrating. Our task is to keep an eye out for any signs of Satanic power in Okumura, and we have found nothing."

She looked back up, and bit her lip. How should she reply to that?

A thunk against the wall told her that Angel had finally given in and had tipped his head back. He gave another sigh.

"Well," she started quietly, "I guess…isn't that pretty good? I mean," she said, feeling Angel tense under her legs, "if we haven't found nothing 'bout that in the dumb kid, doesn't that mean that panel of old geezers is worrying 'bout nothing?"

"I do wish you would afford them the respect that they have earned," Angel said. She could hear exactly which frown was on his face: nineteen point seven, a mixture of derision, frustration, resign, and exasperation. Shura almost glanced up to see if she was right, but decided against it.

"Heh." She smirked. "I don't care, I haven't seen them do nothing worth respecting."

"They spared you." His voice was cold. "They spared you when you were feral and under the thrall of those demons you called family. Though I suppose you're right, seeing as I'm not sure that was the _respectable_ decision."

Something like regret flitted across his face the moment he quit speaking, but it was too late by then. The skin around her eyes tightened in anger, and she jammed her foot into the junction between his inner thigh and his balls. He let out a sound reminiscent of a dying ostrich.

Shura propped herself up on her forearms and grinned, but her eyes were furrowed and her mood had taken a decidedly darker turn. "What did you say, Angel?"

To his credit, the only sign of unease he gave was a widening of the eyes and another little, uncontrollable squeak as she pressed her heel in further. When he spoke, very few people would have been able to tell that he wasn't completely in control. "That they've done respectable things before. Including saving you."

"Good boy," she purred, and let off the pressure a bit. She left her foot there, as a warning for him to watch what he said. Sometimes he had a problem with that. "As I was sayin', if Okumura has the Daddy issues we think he does and we see 'em, great. One less thing t'worry 'bout. If he doesn't, great. No danger to begin with. Kapeesh?"

Angel nodded. "Would you terribly mind getting your foot away from…" he trailed off and gestured to his crotch.

In reply, her grin widened and she pulled out her gaming console. Powering it up, she said, "What d'yer mean, Angelkins? I'm right comfy."

"I've had enough of your—" She dug her heel in and cut him off, his pitch going embarrassingly high.

"Yer should practice that, Angel!" Yes, she could go straight to the boss fight from her last save point. "It makes yer sound girly."

As he growled, but made no move to get up, she thought that it was a pretty damn good time to be Kirigakura Shura.

* * *

><p>Yukio stood to the side as Mephisto-san bounced on the balls of his feet, a manic grin stretching his face almost unnaturally. He did his best not to feel any anger at the Headmaster—really, he did—but apparently the black cloud about his Father's head was contagious, because it was all he could do to keep his clenched fists by his aching, throbbing sides.<p>

Three of his ribs were broken. One had come dangerously close to puncturing his lung, and had pressed against it dangerously ever since he'd been thrown into a wall. It made it kind of hard to forget that the whole fiasco last night was Mephisto-san's fault.

"How does somebody tell the Headmaster to hurry up and let us know our results?" he heard Shima-san hiss to somebody in the small crowd of students before them, and sighed. If he had heard it, then Mephisto-san surely had—and true enough, he saw a flicker of a smirk tug on the eccentric demon's face before it bloomed back into that ear-to-ear grin.

"Not everybody's here!" Miwa-san whispered back, eyes darting around. "It's not fair to list the results when not everybody's here to hear them!"

"Not like it's going to matter that _Ms. Octavian_ isn't here." Suguro-san scowled and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes as he said his classmate's name. "We should just get on with it."

The door at the front of the classroom flung open, and in strode the missing person, hair actually styled into curls and pulled up into a half-ponytail. Her half-lidded eyes surveyed the classroom, and widened as she realized that everybody was already there. Lips curling into a smile, she lifted a strong hand to her mouth to hide the nervous grin. Her fingernails were painted a sparkling shade of blue this time.

"I apologize," she said, bowing. "I did not realize that the time ran away from me. I was getting ready."

Yukio had met Angel Arthur before. Before his teaching stint, he never would have guessed that the more experienced man would make such a convincing woman. Really, it was no wonder that Rin had entertained a crush before Father Fujimoto smacked that inclination down.

"It is fine, Octavian-chan," Mephisto-san crooned, a smug little smirk on his face. He stepped forward. "I understand. After all, some of us take longer than others to make sure that…appearances are acceptable, don't we?"

Something sour twisted across Angel's face, but it was smoothed away a moment later as the girl—man, actually—bowed and joined the mass of students. It didn't escape Yukio's notice that he went to the back of the room.

"Now!" Mephisto-san cried, one hand sweeping his hat off his head as he gave the class an extravagant bow. He straightened, and continued. "I assume that we all want to know the results of the test the night before last?"

"Yes, Headmaster!" It had taken ages to make sure a few voices went along with that. Namely, Rin and Hisoragi-san. Even then, both were muttering the exclamation with nasty looks on their faces.

Yukio glanced to his right at his Father, whose face was just barely on the warmer side of frozen. His smile looked as though it had to be chipped out of his face, and he winced. No, his Father had not been happy when he'd called and explained the situation.

"Eins, zwei, drei!" A mighty snap diverted his attention back to the front, and suddenly there was confetti everywhere. Yukio blinked as a couple pieces fell on his head and shoulders. Thankfully, none of the _maneki-neko_ or the _daruma_ hit him. Judging by the dull _thunk_ and the growl that Father gave, however… "You've all been promoted to Esquire! Congratulations!"

"We did it!" Suguro-san cried, wrapping his arms around both Rin and Miwa-san's necks, the widest grin on his face that Yukio had ever seen. Miwa-san was smiling as well, but was complaining about how it was too hot for this.

Rin fist-bumped both Shima-san and Hisoragi-san before squirming out of Suguro-san's embrace to ruffle Shiemi's hair. She squawked and batted his hand away. "Rin!"

"See? You made it! No need to worry 'bout anything!"

Shima-san laughed behind them. "No kidding! If Shiemi-chan had failed, then all of us definitely would—"

"I already said that you dolt!" Suguro-san turned around, relinquishing his hold on Miwa-san to lightly smack the side of Shima-san's head. "Stop repeating stuff just so that you can look cool!"

Mephisto-san clapped twice, and the sound seemed louder than it had any right to be. "Listen up children, for I would like to treat you all as an extension of my pleasure at your successes!"

"Yes?"

"He's rich, it's gotta be something good!" That was Shima-san, as expected.

Rin perked up. "Sukiyaki?"

With a snort, Yukio glanced over at the Paladin. "Typical Rin, right?"

Father Fujimoto blinked and turned his head to face Yukio. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"As the wealthy president of this institution, I will treat you to _monjayaki_!" Mephisto-san slid the tophat back on his head and held his arms out in a 'what can you do' gesture.

Seeing Rin's forlorn, disgusted face, Yukio settled for motioning in his brother's general direction and saying, "Sukiyaki."

Instead of smiling like he normally would have, Fujimoto sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I suppose I really should treat him on Friday then, shouldn't I? If Mephisto's only pulling out for _monjayaki_."

"And me," Yukio said. "After all, he has been calling for another bonding activity as of late."

Fujimoto grinned almost self depreciatingly as he watched Mephisto-san herd the students out the door (which somehow lead to a place on the very outskirts of True Cross Town). "I haven't been around much, have I?"

"Are you two gentlemen coming? I _am_ treating, you know, and it would be bad sport to un-invite you." When Yukio looked back to his left, Mephisto stood in the doorway, framed by the light, his arms spread wide. In invitation or in intimidation, Yukio wasn't for certain.

"We're coming," Father said, and he moved forward past the younger Okumura, patting him on the shoulder as he did so. "You better be prepared to pay, because Rin will eat you out of at least one bank account."

For a split second, Yukio thought that perhaps Father Fujimoto had moved out of his self-depreciating funk. He and Mephisto-san were friends, so the incident with Neuhaus might have been forgotten by now.

But then Father tilted his head and paused by Mephisto-san, who had turned to his side to let the Paladin through, and said something in a low tone of voice. Because of the backlight, Yukio couldn't see the expression on their faces very well, but Mephisto-san's lazy posture seemed to sharpen without even moving. Father reached up, patted his friend on the shoulder and then left, calling out, "Rin! Don't you dare eat all of it, I've got to have some too!"

Yukio realized then that he was just standing still and hastened forward, ducking past Mephisto-san with a respectful nod and catching up to walk next to his Father.

"So," he said, noticing how deceptively relaxed the Paladin looked, "sukiyaki on you next Friday?"

Fujimoto barked out a laugh. "Hah! I'm not the only working soul here, you can help me feed the bottomless pit we both call family."

A true thrill of fear struck Yukio's heart as he thought of all the hard earned money in his account disappearing into Rin's gullet. "Wait, I don't believe that that is quite as fair as you think it is. I'll feed myself if need be, but not Rin too!"

"We're going to have sukiyaki on Friday? You're _both_ paying?" Rin piped up, and Yukio hadn't realized that they were that close to the little store. He could see Rin craning his neck over the partitioning wall, the grin on his face the scariest thing he'd ever seen. "So that means I don't have to hold back?"

Shima-san laughed. "I feel sorry for you, Okumura-sensei, Fujimoto-sensei."

"No kidding," Suguro-san snorted. He kept glancing up at Father Fujimoto with what looked suspiciously like a blush on his face, though. "I always wondered why you guys didn't eat out much, and then I saw Rin at lunch."

"How do you afford to feed him with the prices of those meals?" Miwa-san asked, genuine as usual. His hands in his lap, he looked up at them; Yukio probably could use him as a poster image for the perfect, earnest student and nobody would refute his decision.

Father laughed. "I have a deal with the Headmaster where he lets Rin eat free if I pay for half of Yukio's meals in 2,000 and 100 yen bills. It's not very cost effective for him, but…"

"Those are the most interesting bills and nobody ever seems to want to give them to me." Mephisto-san popped up behind them, and Yukio only barely clamped down on the urge to jump. All of the students were not as restrained as he was, however, and it was rather comical to see Shima-san clutching Rin as if his life depended on it. "Now, I just need to talk to Takumi-kun for a moment, if you'll excuse us."

"Me?" The boy in question squeaked, but his hands were already reaching for his crutches. "But—"

"It's just about that scholarship arrangement. Your grades aren't as good as they should be; I need to speak to you about if we need to alter the boundaries of the agreement or not." The grin on Mephisto-san's face was unnerving.

Yukio stepped to the side as Hisoragi-san push himself up to a standing position and swing out from the bench. His face looked a little whiter than usual; however, that could just be due to the concept of being unable to keep up with school and being called out on it.

After Hisoragi-san passed them, Yukio slid onto the bench next to Shiemi. The boys in the corner and along one end of the stovetop immediately burst into conversation about how they were going to save Hisoragi-san's grades. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you? There seems to be enough room, even when Hisoragi-san comes back."

"No! That should be fine," she smiled at him, and then craned her neck back to do the same to Fujimoto. "Hello, Fujimoto-san!"

Their Father leaned on the back of the bench and waved a little. "Hello, Shiemi-chan. Your mother doing well these days?"

"Mm! She's very happy these days—we've been getting lots of business. And we've got some fresh herbs in stock because Grammy's garden's doing well too!"

"I'm glad to hear that!" Yukio saw his eyes crease shut with the force of his smile under his tinted glasses. "Do you think she'd be free tonight? I figured it's been a while since I've spoken with her, and I'm sure that you kids would like a playdate!" He sniggered.

Despite himself, Yukio felt himself flush in embarrassment. "Father," he groaned, volume just below Shiemi's giggles. "Was that really necessary?"

"Of course!"

"I think that would be fine, Fujimoto-san," Shiemi said once her laughter had abated. "She'd probably be willing to let Yuki-chan watch the counter."

Since when had he volunteered for that? "Wait, what?"

Fujimoto nodded sagely. "True, that. If Yukio feels that he's too old for a playdate, then he can do the grown-up stuff. He's rather responsible, I'm sure your mother would be leaving her business in good hands."

"But I—"

"Okay! Did you just want to come back with me after the monjayaki?"

Yukio, unlike his brother, knew when something was futile to protest. So he simply resigned himself to waiting for them to quit teasing. Really, Rin had rubbed off on her in the worst way.

"Sounds good, Shiemi-chan! If you'll give me a moment, I'll be back."

At the weight of his Father's hand on his shoulder, Yukio glanced up. "Yes?" he asked, low and covered by Shima-san pouting about 'not being as bad as Rin and Mr. Grumpypants.'

"I'll be back in a moment," Fujimoto murmured. "Just going to have a short talk with Mephisto. May as well see if Hisoragi-kun needs saving, right?"

Yukio felt his lips quirk up in a half-smile. "All right. Don't hurt yourself."

"Who, me? That's you and Rin. I swear, the number of times I've seen the two of you to a clinic…" Father trailed off and shrugged. "I'll be fine."

It seemed entirely too serious a statement for the situation, and set a prickle of unease along the back of his neck. All Yukio did, however, was raise his eyebrows and respond with, "If you say so."

Father Fujimoto straightened and then turned around, and the younger Okumura watched him stride towards the demon he called a friend. He turned back to the rest of the group as the scent and sound of monjayaki batter hitting the hot frying top caught his attention, but he still wondered just what kind of game they were all stuck in.

He trusted his father, but he wasn't certain about how well they would bode against the machinations of a far older, far less scrupulous being such as Mephisto-san. He wasn't certain at all.

* * *

><p>"Mother! I'm home!" Shiemi-chan pushed the door open and entered the shop. It was starting to get a bit dark outside, but there were still a few customers inside the shop, inspecting the wares. One had even dared to haggle prices with the mistress of Moriyama Exorcist Supply Shop, but didn't seem to be having much luck. Not that that surprised Fujimoto—no, Moriyama-san was a very tough cookie to crack when it came to her wares. If she offered you a price, you took it.<p>

"Shiemi! You—I see you've brought guests." Moriyama-san looked at Shiemi-chan, but her eyes flickered back to Fujimoto and his kids.

"Hey, Moriyama-san! I was wondering if I might have a chat with you. If you need somebody to man the desk, Yukio would be happy to do that."

"Wait, you were serious?" Yukio hissed next to him, barely loud enough to be heard. Fujimoto grinned. Oh, to torment your children…

"I suppose. Now, that herbal demon-bug repellent isn't going a single yen down in price, so you should just cough up the extra coin."

The man, who'd been staring in shock at seeing the _Paladin_—never mind that Fujimoto recognized him as one of the guys on that mission a few months back—snapped back to attention with a stammered, "Y—yes, sure, here you go."

As soon as he'd fished the bills and coins out of his pocket, he grabbed the packet and fled the little store, sidestepping around Fujimoto's little group with a stammered greeting and a series of little bows.

"All right everybody," Moriyama-san said as she stood, her deep, rustic brown kimono rustling, "you'll have to excuse me for a moment. Please enjoy the service of our resident genius, Okumura Yukio!"

Shiemi-chan took Rin by the hand and smiled, completely oblivious to the blush turning Rin's cheeks a hilarious shade of tomato red. "I need to show you the garden! It's been growing really well since you were last here."

Shirou clapped Yukio on the back and steered him forward past two Exorcists still perusing the items on the wall and on the tables in the middle of the floor. "I have faith in you, my prodigious son."

With a heated glare that told Fujimoto Shirou that his son would have burned him alive if he could—not that he'd inherited that power, no, that was all Rin's—Yukio stalked forward as maturely as he could. His steps were still just a little heavier than called for and his jaw jutted out just a centimeter shy of being a pout.

"Kid, I'll pay you twenty percent of the profit I get from the next few items," Moriyama-san drawled, holding the swinging door open for them both.

Yukio straightened and pushed his glasses up. "I will do my best, then, to ensure that your prices remain at such a rate that your profit margin is optimal."

_She does know how to manipulate_. Fujimoto smirked a little as he passed Moriyama-san. "Thank you."

"Let's go to the back," she said, and moved past him in order to lead the way. "I expect to see some good sales, Okumura-sensei!"

"He'll do fine," Shirou grinned. "Especially once your customers cotton on to the idea that _you_ would budge before he did."

She laughed, a loud, brash noise that bounced off the walls and came back even stronger than it originally was. "True enough, true enough! Let me close the door, and we can begin our chat. Go sit down by the _kotatsu_, we'll talk there."

"As you wish, Moriyama-san." Fujimoto navigated his way past the kitchen, through the crowded hallway littered with pictures of Moriyama-san, Shiemi-chan, and aged pictures of what could only be Moriyama-san's deceased lover, and finally found the little room with a small, four-person _kotatsu_. The window took up most of the wall, and through it he could see Shiemi and Rin crouching down by a little patch of flowers—pansies, if Fujimoto remembered correctly.

"I've brought in some tea and cookies," Moriyama-san announced, and he turned to watch her enter the room as the overhead light flickered on. He remembered her when she was younger, fitter, more capable and not as disillusioned with being an exorcist. She had such potential as a Dragoon then—her ability to aim was simply uncanny. Not that he had appreciated that in his youth; being in a class with the straight-laced Moriyama Rika wasn't ideal for a die-hard womanizer like himself. "We typically keep a pot warm. Tea family, you know."

"The way I like it," Fujimoto returned, settling down so that his legs were crossed. This meeting probably wasn't so formal as to call for _seiza_, even if Moriyama-san was a very traditional woman. "Thank you for the refreshments."

"It's the least I could do as a host," Moriyama-san replied, settling down herself. The thick folds of her clothing billowed and bunched around her as she sat, not quite in a _seiza_, where the weight was supported by the balls of the feet, but in a sort of sideways kneel; her calves jutted out to one side, and she rested primarily on her backside.

Fujimoto was quiet for a while as she poured the tea, meticulous in all of her movements and very businesslike. "We've changed a lot, you and I."

She snorted. The Moriyama Rika that Fujimoto had known during his days at Cram School would not have done that; Kamiki-chan reminded him a lot of her, actually, except a bit less proper. "Of course we have. People change. Ideas change. But I don't think that's what you came to me to talk about, Fujimoto-san."

"No," he said, and he looked to his left. Outside, in the dimming light, Shiemi-chan was tugging Rin around, pointing out this and that and stopping to explain things. He never would have thought that she knew. "No, I came to talk to you about something far, far graver. Far more…revolutionary, shall we say."

Moriyama-san studied him. She handed him a cup of tea wordlessly, but her green eyes stayed riveted on his form, and he was struck by how serious she seemed.

Accepting the cup, he raised it to his lips and sipped at it. Just on the shy side of too hot for the tongue; Moriyama-san was as impeccable as ever. Lowering the cup, he continued. "I…There was a long time where I wasn't sure if I could trust you with this, but you are a long-time acquaintance of mine, and your daughter stumbled across the truth; I have no desire to see a household torn apart by secrets. I also came to the conclusion that you would be fair minded about this situation. Please hear me out until the end—let me speak without interjecting. And then make your judgments."

They were both silent for a moment, but Fujimoto Shirou couldn't think of anything that would stop her from hearing how his heart was pounding. The clock ticked in the corner, but even that was drowned out by the staccato drumming in his ears.

"I will," she said at last, and it was more than he could ever hope for.

Another sip of tea. It was a kind of bittersweet, and he wasn't sure if he liked it yet. One deep breath, in and out. Finally, he opened his mouth, and told her everything.

* * *

><p>Shiemi led Rin inside the shed she used to live in, peering over her shoulders. Who knew who was watching? She didn't want him to get in trouble because she asked him to show her his ability to call up Satan's flame!<p>

"What are we doing?" Rin hissed. "What's with this whole spy deal with ducking and rolling?"

She blushed. Doing that had been more fun (and also a lot harder) than she had expected. "Just hush and get in here!

She opened the shed door just enough to slip through, and stood to the side as Rin did the same. Quick as she could, Shiemi tugged the door shut again and slid the thick wooden plank into place. There! Now nobody would be able to get in and take a peek without alerting them first.

"What are we doing?"

"Go sit down!" Shiemi ordered, and dragged him over to the bed she used to sleep in. She still liked to camp out here sometimes, so there were still some bedding and pillows laying around, but her room was used more often than not. Mother wouldn't take long to figure out that they were in here, and she didn't want her to think there was anything silly going on!

_Being on the same bed doesn't help_, a little voice inside of her pointed out, but she squished it down. That didn't need to grow in her mind.

Rin blinked a few times as she made him sit next to her on the comforter. "Shiemi, what are we—are we on your bed?" His voice got a squeaky sort of high at that. She giggled.

"I—well, I know I saw last night, but I wanted to see it again when it wasn't so hectic and—is it okay?" Oh dear, she hadn't thought about that. Maybe he didn't want to show her! It was kind of a sensitive subject, she would think.

He was quiet for a moment. "Do you mean…well, the…stuff?"

Wincing, she nodded. It was still a couple awkward heartbeats longer before she realized that he couldn't really see her. "Yes! Those. If it's not okay, you don't have to show me, but I just wanted to see what they looked like when you weren't all growly and angry and everything."

They were both silent for a much, much longer period than the first two pauses. She opened her mouth to retract her request, feeling so very, very foolish, but the room flickered into focus as a small, quiet blue flame bloomed to life in the center of Rin's cupped palms.

She inched closer and watched how it waved and bobbed, so much like an ordinary candle flame except the fact that it was blue. It was entrancing. It was so tame looking. It was…

"Beautiful," she breathed, reaching a hand out as if to touch it. She arrested the movement, but Rin had noticed.

"Would you," he asked, and when she looked up, his face was this raw kind of open, the kind of shy that only appears when you're giving yourself to someone and you so desperately want your trust not to be betrayed. "Would you like to hold it?"

She sucked in a breath. "I—you don't mind?"

Shaking his head, the flame slid to the center of one palm. The other, he reached out and closed around Shiemi's hand and drew it closer to the flame, palm-up. She felt the tickling sensation of wonder start to fill her heart.

"Steady," he murmured, but her eyes were fixed on the tongue of fire. "It won't hurt you. I'll just push it over and let you hold it."

"Of course it won't," she replied, just as soft. It was inching closer and closer, crawling over Rin's fingers and reaching out to hers. "It's yours."

The flame stopped moving for just a blink of time, and then it was nestling across the tiny pores of her skin, settling into the center of her hand, right above the crease of the thumb. If she concentrated hard enough, she could feel a soft thudding right at its base, almost like a heartbeat. It was…warm. It was comforting.

She'd been wrong. This wasn't Satan's flame. This was Rin's. Warm, protecting, soothing and just maybe a tad wild.

"So beautiful," she breathed out again, and she cut her eyes up to Rin's face. He looked as amazed, as content as she felt. "Rin, you are so beautiful."

As soon as her mind caught up with her mouth, she flushed, but Rin just smiled and got that expression on his face that said that he was simply overjoyed. Authentically, beautifully overjoyed with everything. "Thank you," he said, "for being my friend."

She couldn't even pause. "Always," she whispered back.

His hand in hers, the flame flickered and bloomed just a little bit larger.

* * *

><p>His mouth was dry. Twice, Moriyama-san had gotten up to reheat the kettle and refill his cup, but even those were gone now. Fujimoto Shirou looked down at his hands and finished speaking. "I was hoping, Moriyama-san, that you would not only keep this secret for me, but also if you would help me. Help me protect Rin. I…I don't know how events will unfold, I don't know how long it will be until he is forced to be on his own, and I do not want that to happen. There needs to be a net, so to speak, that will catch him. He needs help, and I fear that my time as Paladin is coming to an end."<p>

She was silent a few moments longer. Then she spoke, quiet and soft and more like the Moriyama-san he'd known in his youth. "Fujimoto-san. Shirou. Look at me."

He looked.

There was a hard determination in her eyes, and her back was straight and strong in a way that it hadn't been since her youth. "Call me Rika."

* * *

><p>AN: I love friendship stuff, so...while there may be hints of possible romance, the frienship will always take priority.

If you saw anything that was off, please tell me!


	19. Spaβ und Spiele

**A/N:** So here it is! Chapter 19 :)

So with Chapter 20-I haven't gotten very far with it. I'm going to try writing over Midsemester break (I should be able to?) and am setting up a tentative update date to be **March 22**. If it's not going to be up by March 22nd, I'll be giving a heads-up on the VA tumblr page. School can be rough, agh.

Enjoy Chapter 19! And if you see any mistakes-German or English-please let me know! I'd like to try to fix them.

...I blame everything on Neko, this chapter.

(edit: Thank you, _A Stranger 0.0_, for pointing out the grammatical error in the alternative title!)

* * *

><p>Chapter Nineteen: <em><span>Spaβ und Spiele <span>_

(Fun and Games)

.

Alternatively: _Es ist alles Spaβ und Spiele, bis jemand von einer Kuckucksuhr verschluckt wird._

(It's all fun and games until someone gets swallowed by a Cuckoo clock.)

.

Rin had thought that when he'd been forced to get up at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning along with Shima and Takumi, he would get a cool mission out of it. He thought that they'd go to the mission desk and be paired up or something to do cool stuff like clean out infested warehouses or something. He'd done it before, so he could attest to how cool it actually was. But no. His Dad had to play the biggest, meanest prank on him by not mentioning how they started rookies out on glorified _chores_.

From the sound of it, it didn't seem like anybody'd had better luck.

"I was cleaning out Reaper cages all morning," Neko said, a little bit of disgust in his tone. It wasn't anything overly noticeable, but Rin winced in sympathy. That was probably just as fun as his chore was.

Bon grunted. "That sounds awful. All I had to do was a supply mission to the mountains; holy water, seal paper, that kind of thing. Easy, but manual labor."

"I had to get rid of packs of Coal Tars all over True Cross," Rin interjected. "It sucked."

"So that's why your uniform is all smudged! You didn't have enough time to change or shower?" Neko asked, looking slightly pleased. If Rin didn't know better, he would have thought that the guy was happy somebody shared in his pain.

"When I say all over True Cross," he said, "I mean every single corner. All of them."

Shima chuckled and made to smack him on the shoulder, but stopped at the last moment. Rin didn't really blame him; he wasn't exactly the cleanest at the moment. At least he'd gotten all the cobwebs in his hair out. "Sorry to hear that, Rin. I collected Bariyons in Tamagawa—that probably would have been right up your alley. I still wouldn't have switched with you."

"Heartless," Rin muttered. Collecting Bariyons wasn't exactly the greatest, but it was better than cleaning out _Coal Tars_.

"Guys," Takumi interjected. He'd gotten his cast off yesterday and had a boot, but still opted to take the crutches around with him just in case. "At least you were outside. Think of that before you start bitching about how awful your missions were."

"How bad was yours, then?" Bon groused. "By the way, we have to start you on your regular-school cram sessions tonight."

Takumi groaned and let his head fall into his hands. "I don't even wanna think about that. Paper is evil. And I was stuck filing for five hours."

There was a horrified silence.

"You mean," Rin asked, eyebrow twitching.

"I was in that damn room. For five hours. Filing. Paperwork."

Bon reached his left hand over and patted Takumi on the shoulder, his face screwed up in sympathy. It was a really weird expression on him.

"At least," Neko started out, a bit timid, from Takumi's left side, "you didn't have to deal with feces? Or the possibility of hurting yourself?"

Rin couldn't see Takumi's face from where he was sandwiched between Bon and Shima, but Neko's nervous laughter and apologetic stutters filled a lot of that missing picture in.

"You kids have it easy. Back in my day, those were the kinds of missions that you looked forward to!"

He swung his head to the right and glowered at the Old Man. "How the hell does it get any worse than that? And why the hell are you here, anyways? I thought that you were going to take today off from trying to keep up with me last night!"

The grin on Father Fujimoto's face was wicked. "Ah, but how could I not come? I wanted to see your face this bright, sunny afternoon. After all, it's not every day your son has his first mission, approved of by the Paladin himself!"

Rin's eyes widened. "You damn—"

"Sorry we're late!"

When Rin glanced up at the sound of Shiemi's voice, he didn't see her at first. Sure, there was Izumo No-Brows with a peeved expression running behind this blonde girl in the class uniform, but—

And then he focused on her face and _holy shit that's Shiemi_.

He was on his feet before he even realized it. "S—Shiemi, where is—why aren't you wearing your kimono?"

"I kept tripping in it; it's not very good for missions, so the Chairman issued me a school uniform. We're late because Paku-san and Kamiki-san were showing me how to wear it properly!" She fidgeted with her skirt and blushed as everybody remained silent a heartbeat longer. "Does it…look weird?"

Shima, much to Rin's dismay, was the first one to respond. "No, Shiemi-chan, you look absolutely adorable!"

Before he could think twice about it, Rin smacked his friend in the back of the head. "Quit checking her out, pervert!" That didn't stop his eyes from being drawn to her skirt, or her boobs or—_look at the face, Rin, look at her face._ She had a very pretty face. And neck. And that ribbon was really cute, and her boobs were—_Rin, face!_

Ooooh, why did he just thank her for being his friend that night a week ago when she said he was beautiful? He could have gone for strong, handsome, or amazing even, but being called beautiful was a sign that she wasn't opposed to dating, wasn't it? Why did he say _friends_?

"You look very nice today, Shiemi-chan," his Old Man said, and he was just about ready to smack him too when he noticed how genuine and not-perverted his smile was. He pulled his hand down and glanced at the other guys in the group. Neko was smiling and very carefully keeping his eyes on Shiemi's face, Bon was…he strayed a couple times but shot right back up, and Takumi…

Rin felt his hackles rise. Takumi just did _not_ know when to stop staring at boobs, apparently. But he would learn. Oh, he would.

"…wait, is my widdle Yukio-chan actually staring at a woman's breasts?" He heard Fujimoto whisper almost too low to be heard, and his head whipped around to stare at his little brother's mortified face. Yukio? Paying attention to women? Rin had tried so hard to get his brother interested, had shoved the Old Man's dirty magazines in front of his face, and he'd never even blinked an eye. But now he was staring?

Well, Rin realized, watching as Yukio's slim three-ring binder collided spine-first with the Old Man's nose, he wasn't any more. He committed the moment to memory; who knew when Yukio would actually ogle a woman again?

"Why would you _do _that?" Father Fujimoto cried, the sound muffled behind the hand he was using to keep his nose from spewing blood all over the place. "What happened to respecting your elders?"

Yukio ignored their Dad, which made Rin all the more amused. Served him right for sending Rin on mission impossible all morning. "Seeing as we're all present," his brother said, pushing up his glasses as he did so, "I will start pairing everybody up for this evening's group mission. Please go stand by your partners when I call your names."

Stretching, Rin rose to his feet and yawned. He couldn't help but look over at Shiemi and grin hopefully. As cool as the guys were to hang out with, Shiemi _knew_, and she understood and accepted him. It'd be great to pair up with her.

"Kamiki-san and Hisoragi-san."

Face sour, she glided over to where Takumi still sat on the ground. Upon seeing how his leg was in a boot instead of in a cast, she muttered, "Guess you won't be a cripple forever. Good."

Rin really wasn't sure how to take that.

"Yamada-san and Moriyama-san."

The frown was on his face before he could stop it, and he glared at Yukio. His brother disregarded everything. All at once, Rin had the horrible, horrible notion that he was going to be stuck with _Mr. Crossdressing Spy_. He upped the ante on that glare so fast that Shura-sensei would have been proud.

"Please treat me well, Yamada-san!" Shiemi bowed, awkward and adorable as usual.

The guy in the hoodie—sometimes, Rin couldn't believe that was Shura-sensei just because the figure had absolutely _no_ jugs to speak of—stood up, his hands in his pocket. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"Octavian-san and Shima-san."

Immediately, all the anger that Rin had felt towards Yukio for the possibility of being paired with _Angel_ turned into humor as he saw the utter horror cross the spy's face.

"Okumura-san and Miwa-san."

Rin turned and leaned behind Bon, who hadn't gotten his assigned partner yet, to wave at Neko. . "Hey, we're partners!"

Neko smiled as he stood, and then bowed. "Let's work well together!"

"Goddammit," Bon snarled. Suddenly aware of the danger, Rin leaned back a bit. No sense in being caught up in that guy's temper, was there?

"And finally," Yukio nudged his glasses up and glanced at the crowd of students who had gotten together in pairs, some less enthusiastically than others, "Suguro-san and Takara-san."

Bon stood and strode over to the puppet-guy, his steps more like stomps than anything else. As he left, he passed Octavian from where she was reluctantly heading for Shima. Rin had to bite his lip as he caught a bit of their conversation.

"You know, Angelina-chan, I'm sure there are a few dark corners that we can—"

"If you say something like that one more time," she snarled, sounding more like a man than ever, "I will drive your pathetic body into the side of a building so hard that an imprint is left behind."

Shima paused. "Ooooh, you like it rough then? Okay, I think I can handle it. But just for you, Angelina-chan!"

Octavian's knuckles cracked and snapped. Rin was almost afraid to look.

"All right everybody, listen up!" the Old Man called out, having stopped his nose from bleeding. He still looked like he'd just gotten done butchering a chicken that had gotten a hold of his face. "Your teacher wants to brief you!"

Rin turned his attention to the trio of teachers, part of him glad that the ominous noises behind him had stopped, and part of him sad that the spy hadn't snapped. Shima might have suffered for it, but at least he would be free of that Angel guy.

With a light cough, Yukio nodded his thanks to their Dad. "There have been several reports dealing with sightings and attacks of a ghost on the premises of Mepphyland, the Academy's amusement park. As part of your group training, you Esquires will be participating in the search. If I may have a definition of a ghost?"

Izumo No-Brows raised her hand from where she stood.

"Kamiki-san, go ahead."

Hand dropping, she nodded sharply. "Of course. Ghosts are demons that possess the vapor released by dead bodies of humans and animals alike. Typically, they are characterized by the strong emotions that the deceased had in life."

Rin scowled. Those things. He hated them; no amount of swinging his sword would exorcise them, even when it was coated with flames. It had taken him hours to dispel that one last year. Plus, that guy kept wailing about how horrified he was that he'd lost his dear goldfish down the toilet, and after a while that just got annoying.

"Very good, Kamiki-san," Yukio praised, moving his attention from the binder splayed in his left hand to Rin's classmate, and then onto the rest of the group. "Sightings have occurred all around the park apparently at random, so we have no predictions as to its next location of appearance. However, its form is always that of a small male child, and attacks have been limited to grabbing hands and feet. However, if allowed to continue, its behavior could grow increasingly dangerous."

Rin remembered quite abruptly how the goldfish-ghost had started chucking the pet store's aquariums at him. Dangerous indeed.

"You should spread out," he continued, "in your pairs and try to find the ghost before sundown. Should you find it, inform Tsubaki-san, myself, or Fujimoto-san via cell-phone. Any questions?"

He felt Neko shift next to him, and glanced over to see that he had his hand raised. "Can you tell us more about what it looks like?"

Shaking his head, Yukio responded, "You'll know it when you see it."

"All right!" The Old Man clapped his hands a few times. "Off you go, get to it! We'll all be making rounds, so one of us should be near if you find the demon!"

Turning to Neko, Rin grinned wide and held a fist out. "We'll be the ones to find it first, won't we?"

"Sure!" Neko agreed, smiling as well. "We do appear to be an optimal balance between strength and intelligence, and our abilities parallel nicely. If we do get into a tight spot, we should be fine."

Rin nodded. "Yeah, I think that's—wait, are you calling me stupid?"

Blushing, Neko pointed over at the Ferris wheel. "Let's start over there! It seems like a place a ghost might like." Without another word, he began heading off that way, movements a little jerkier than they usually were.

"You were!" Rin felt a little miffed, but he had to admit that Neko was right; he was a lot smarter than Rin, but Rin was better with the whole 'hit things until they die' idea. Shrugging, he jogged off after his classmate and caught up just as Takumi and Izumo No-Brows branched off to the far side of the Ferris wheel.

"Can't you go faster?"

"Not unless I want to end back up in a cast. Deal with it."

After making a face at Izumo—as cool as she could be, she was still really kind of a bitch sometimes—Rin nudged Neko with his elbow. "How d'you wanna do this?"

"You look on the right," he said after a moment, "and I'll take the left. If we find the ghost, you try to hold it off with—"

There was an abrupt pause, and Rin glanced down to his left. "What's up?"

Neko gave him a wobbly smile. "Well, um, I was wondering if you were okay with taking out your sword; you were really, well, quiet about it after the test."

They stopped in the middle of the path, almost situated at the center of the Ferris wheel. Rin cocked his head. "Didn't I explain that to you guys?"

"No, you didn't. Wait… " The bald young monk faced him, his forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows were pulled down. "We didn't ask?"

"No…" He crossed his arms and looked to the side, running through all the times they'd spoken since Sunday, when the results of the test had been announced. They'd met for lunch a lot, but all they had talked about was not sword things. "I don't think it came up."

They were both quiet for a moment.

"Well," Rin said at last, pulling his left sleeve up so that the sweatband was exposed once more, "I'll show you Tsunagiri—I have no issues with that!"

"I thought you," Neko paused, and then restarted. "I mean, you didn't want to tell us right away and I figured that you didn't know if you could trust us or not."

It was like a slap to the face. "What? No! I trust you guys with Tsunagiri, I just don't trust the other guys!"

Neko opened his mouth, then closed it again. He paused a bit longer, and Rin was just starting to wonder if he'd given the wrong impression _again_ when he finally spoke up. "Tsunagiri?"

"All great swords have names," Rin said, and he reached his hand over to pull the blade out, sheath and all. As he did so, he bent his head over a little. Just as he started to withdraw the embossed sword, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something brushed against them, and he stopped thinking altogether.

He reached out, snagged Neko around the arm, and launched himself forward, twisting so that he was sliding backwards when he landed on the ground. Neko gave an aborted yell of surprise, but Rin didn't let him go.

"Wow," said the unfamiliar, gothic-looking guy before him, lollipop centimeters from his mouth. "You really are as good as he thought you were."

_Fuck_, Rin realized, resisting the overwhelming urge to rub at the back of his neck. _That was close. _The unsettled feeling did not go away, and Rin shifted so that he was shielding Neko, his right hand cocked and ready to pull Tsunagiri out—unsheathed, this time. "Who the hell are you?"

That spike on his head was seriously distracting, as were the extra-long fingernails. His voice grated on Rin's ears when he spoke; the words were stressed at all the wrong places. "Oh? That's right, I'm Amaimon, a Demon King. You could say that I'm your big brother. Nice to meet you."

Neko sucked in a breath behind him. "The King of Earth," he whispered, and Rin knew without looking that his eyes were wide. Rin's own eyes narrowed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Under his breath he mumbled to Neko, "Call the Old Man."

"Huh?"

Amaimon shrugged. "Well, you know what it means. I'm not really allowed to say it, 'coz Big Brother told me that he'd kill me if I did in front of people, but there you go." He stuck the lollipop back in his mouth.

"Dad! The Paladin!" Rin hissed, and he stepped forward so that Amaimon couldn't see what Neko was up to. "Okay, fine. What do you want, then?"

"I was bored," the Demon King whined, and he kicked his feet at the ground. "I wanted to play. You're not really being very much fun. Is it because of the human behind you?"

Rin's keen ears picked up Neko pressing the keys of the phone, and he bit his lip. There was no doubt that the demon could hear it if Rin could, despite how far away he was. "He's got nothing to do with it. I just don't wanna play."

The phone was ringing behind him, soft and almost unnoticeable through its tiny speakers. Rin felt nervous sweat bead on his forehead. He'd already tangled with one Demon King this year, and that wouldn't have ended half as well if Dad hadn't come by to help him out.

"That's not very nice. If I played with that human too, would you play with me then?" The way Amaimon cocked his head sent shivers down Rin's spine, and he felt entirely outclassed. He might be able to hold the guy off for two, maybe three minutes without flames if the Demon King went all out, but much further than that and he'd be broken in several places.

"Sir? We have a problem…"

There was a blur of green, and Rin barely managed to divert the stabbing lunge Amaimon made for the phone. "That's just unfair! I wanted to have fun, and you're trying to stop that!"

Rin's heart pounded in his chest. "Well, you're a big old Demon King, and we're just two human kids who've barely started to learn to do shit," he said, a little louder than called for. It was more true for Neko than him, but whatever.

Amaimon feinted towards Neko again, and Rin kept himself between them, Tsunagiri glinting in the sunlight as he redirected the demon's movements. "You wouldn't be even this much fun if you were, and you're still boring! You should just quit holding back. I want to play!"

He punctuated this remark by making to smack Rin in the side of the head. Rin was so glad that he'd started crashing Bon's work-out sessions in the mornings, even though it was awful to be up so early. He was extra glad that he'd been sneaking off to spar with Kuro late at night, even if it cut his customary eleven hours of sleep down to about seven.

That lost time was worth nothing compared to how he was able to react just fast enough to avoid the blow by maybe a fraction of a centimeter. It was worth even less—if that was possible—when he was able to kick Amaimon in the side hard enough to send him stumbling back, eerie green eyes wide.

"Is he still there?" he asked Neko tersely. When he didn't get an answer, he spoke up a little louder. "You gotta tell me in words, I can't take my eyes off that guy!"

"Y-yes," Neko answered. "He says he's on his—Rin!"

Amaimon moved faster than ever before, and Rin could barely track where he was headed. All he could do was tackle Neko out of the path of the demon's counterattack and roll to his feet as best he could. The green blur dressed in his skulls-and-crossbones clothing flitted from side to side.

"You play the human game of tag really well, but I don't want to be it anymore! Let me hit you!"

"That's not how tag works!" Rin yelled, striking with Tsunagiri before bringing the sword back around to parry the next few blows. The beaded rosary swung from the end of the hilt, almost hypnotic in the way it flew through the air. He felt hyper-sensitive, hyper-aware, and like his arms and legs were starting to want to fall off.

"What about a third player? If I tag the human, will he be it then?" Amaimon turned his back on Rin. Anger flared in his gut.

"Don't you fucking dare bring him into this!" Rin reached forward and snagged the back of Amaimon's coat as he made to leap. He tugged back with all his strength and sent the demon through a building, bricks crumbling and glass shattering under the impact. Rin moved around so that his back was to Neko, his front to the smoking ruins of the building, and started to shuffle back. It took a lot out of him to even move back, and he moved his three-minute estimate down to one. He got the feeling that Amaimon wasn't even being serious about this whole thing, and wasn't that putting things in perspective? Honorary Middle-Second Class Knight indeed.

"_Hide_, Neko!"

Neko moved away behind him, and Rin felt relief weigh down on his arms. But it wasn't over, Dad wasn't there yet, he couldn't give in.

"Dude, what the hell is going on? Aren't we supposed to call somebody about the ghost?" Takumi yelled. Rin glanced over in horror to see Takumi hobbling up the path towards him, Izumo No-Brows at his side. All Rin could think was _shit_ before he spied Amaimon leaping from the top of the building.

"No! Get _out _of here!" He shouted, and broke into a sprint, muscles screaming. He was almost to his classmates before the Demon King landed in front of the poor guy. Izumo froze.

"But I can tag them, right?" Amaimon cocked his head, and then reached a hand out, fingers held just so that he could flick Takumi in the forehead and drive him back into Izumo. The split second before could, however, Rin rammed into both of them and brought Tsunagiri up. _I will protect them_, he thought, and Amaimon's finger slammed into the metal.

Tsunagiri _sang_, and then the runes on the blade lit up a brilliant white-blue. Rin's eyes widened. _But I've been pushing them down!_

A split-second later, a blinding flash blew Amaimon back, and Rin stared at his sword in complete confusion. He hadn't called on any flames. There hadn't been any flames. So where the _hell_ did that come from?

"Good," his Dad said, and when had he gotten there? "The safeguards we etched in have come in handy. I'd been starting to wonder if they ever would."

"Dad?" Rin stared at him, and dimly realized that his arms and legs were shaking, trembling in a mix of fear, adrenaline, and exhaustion. Keeping up with Amaimon had pushed him to his very limits.

He patted him on the shoulder. "You did well, Rin. I'll take care of this." Fujimoto then took a step forward, and Rin felt his legs collapse from underneath him.

"Rin!" Neko was suddenly at his side, kneeling and half-supporting his weight. "Rin, are you all right?"

"I didn' get hurt, no," Rin said, staring at his father's back. He had this burning desire to be at his side, to protect him, but there was also an indescribable feeling of relief at comfort at the sight. "Wait, didn't I tell you to hide?"

Neko didn't answer.

"Who _are_ you?" Izumo No-Brows whispered, and he couldn't even muster up the energy to look back at her.

"You're no fun," Amaimon jumped back down onto the ground, clothes smoking a little but otherwise unharmed. Rin didn't think that this was fair at all. "Why are you ruining my fun? I don't like you."

Fujimoto shrugged. "I just figured that you'd have more fun with me. I mean, he's a cool kid and all, but he's like watery beer that doesn't even have any kick to it other than the damn awful taste. Me? I'm like vintage wine."

Amaimon wrinkled his nose. "I think you're just a stupid old human. Get out of my way." He made to hit Fujimoto.

His Old Man caught the hand as easily as he would have a radish tossed to him at dinnertime.

Rin rose to his knees, despite how his legs throbbed; it was better than it had been earlier. Neko's hands fluttered around at his side, and he smiled down at the guy. "Hey, it's fine. I'm okay. Just need to take it easy for a bit."

The Old Man spoke again with that pleasant tone, and the crunching snapping sound of bones breaking was clearly audible. If Amaimon hadn't been a weirdo jerk hell-bent on kicking the crap out of him, Rin might have felt bad for the demon. "Now look who's being rude! I'm your playmate, not my son. Don't think you can just push me aside; I'm rather stubborn."

"Let go!" The pointy-haired demon tried to tug his arm away. He didn't succeed. "Let _go_! This isn't tag! You're breaking the rules! I'll kill you if you don't let go!"

"No," Fujimoto agreed. There was a chill to his otherwise cheery tone that shivered down Rin's spine. "I dare say it isn't! It's a different kind of game, one that I'm sure you're more familiar with; it's called 'The Paladin fucks up the idiot who thought he could beat up his son in an unfair fight without any repercussions.' I quite enjoy this one and thought that I would share it with you as a fellow game enthusiast."

The other Esquires were quiet around Rin. Takumi was the first to speak. "Your old man is freaky scary."

Amaimon finally tried to punch the Old Man again, but Fujimoto simply sidestepped and unclipped something from his belt. In one quick motion, he slammed the object into the demon's face and let go of the Earth King's crippled hand. Water and steam spewed into the air as Amaimon screeched and screamed.

"I'm going to kill you!" He howled, and it was the most animalistic thing Rin had heard from something that looked so human. "I'm going to rip you apart until you're drowning in your own blood!"

Rin stood, and then stooped back down to snag Tsunagiri off the ground. He still felt sore, but it was better than it had been earlier. Besides, if his Dad needed help, then he'd be ready to step in for at least a few moments. Neko tugged on his shirt, but he patted it away.

"The thief," Fujimoto thundered, his arms bent at the elbow and palms up, "comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it in full."

The demon screamed, and Rin covered his ears with his free hand and his right shoulder, wincing at the noise. Amaimon shrieked and lashed out. "Shut that cursing mouth of yours!"

The Old Man sidestepped the swipe and continued, his hands still up at his sides. "I am the good Shepherd, the one who lays his life down for his flock. The hired hand, who owns not the sheep, flees the flock at the first sign of the wolf. He flees, for he is the hired hand who cares not for the sheep."

Rin watched his father's cold, angry, worried face, and shifted so that he was better prepared to jump into the fray. The next moment, Amaimon just barely missed running his father through with his bare hands, and Rin tensed to move forward; if nothing else, he was a pretty convincing distraction.

There was a hand tugging at his shirt, and he glanced over to see Neko. "Rin! What are you _doing_?"

Before Rin could open his mouth and answer, a deep voice spoke out. "Eins, Zwei, Drei!" When he looked to the fight again, a giant white bird with a pink polka-dotted bowtie was swallowing the enraged Amaimon. Right after it did that, the metal attached to its spine snapped it back into this really skinny house-thing that had candy canes and lollipops all over the place.

He wondered if he was dreaming.

"Mephisto," his father said, still in that even, chilly tone. "What brings you here?"

The Headmaster chuckled, and Rin realized that if he hadn't dreamed that weirdo, then he probably hadn't dreamed the bird and the house. He glanced over as covertly as he could manage, and frowned, because the damn thing was still there.

"Why, I heard some commotion in my dearest Mepphyland and wondered how such a tiny ghost would cause such trouble and wandered over. Imagine my surprise when I saw the King of Earth battling against my good friend, the Paladin!"

"You gave me your word, Mephisto Pheles."

Mephisto never stopped smiling, but Rin thought that maybe he looked a little more dangerous than before. Then again, the guy gave him the creeps whenever he saw him, so maybe it was just his freak-out radar overreacting because he'd just gotten into a fight with a freaking Demon King and survived. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Shirou."

"His name's Mephisto? I—he told me it was Faust!" Takumi whispered, but Rin was more focused on how stiff his Dad was holding himself.

"Cut the crap, Mephisto. You gave me your word that Rin would _not_ be targeted as a result of your incorrigible need to know everything under the sun! You promised me that after Neuhaus, there wou—"

"Careful, Fujimoto Shirou." Mephisto purred, his eyes glowing slits against the shadow created by his white tophat. "You forget yourself in your temper."

Rin took a step forward. What the hell were they talking about? Targeted? Neuhaus decided to attack him because he had beef against Satan and decided to take it out on him. "Old Man?"

He glanced over at Rin, and his gaze skittered past him and to his fellow classmates. With a smile that didn't reach his eyes, he turned and said, "Ah, forgive me. I should be focusing on you all instead—is everybody all right?"

"Yeah," Takumi said, breathless. "The Headmaster's name is Mephisto? What happened to Faust?"

Sliding a hand on Rin's shoulder once he was close enough, Fujimoto replied. "Well, he goes by both. Mephisto is simply the name I know him by. No new injuries?"

Rin kept staring at Mephisto, who was banishing the giant weirdo shed-house-thing. His Dad had been talking as if somebody was trying to _assassinate_ him or something, as if Mephisto had promised that it wouldn't happen again. Didn't that mean that Mephisto was behind that? Why did the guy want him dead? He had pressed for Rin to be involved as an official Exorcist. Was that just so that he was easier to off?

"What is going _on_?" Izumo No-Brows cried out. "What _is_ your son? Some kind of monster?"

Rin couldn't help flinching. Mephisto looked up and caught his eye, then tipped his hat as if in acknowledgement. All he could do was continue to stare at the Headmaster, unsure of what to think or do.

"Hey now," Fujimoto said, but there was no anger there. "I lasted much longer against the King of Earth; am I a monster?"

There was an embarrassed silence, and Rin finally tore his eyes away from the demon who'd done his best to get him into True Cross Academy and back towards his classmates. He turned, his Old Man's hand sliding off his shoulder, just in time to catch movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Rin!" Shiemi cried, hastening towards him. He was dimly aware of how hypnotizing the bounce of her chest was, but the thoughtful look on Neko's face had him a little frightened. "Rin, are you okay?"

_I don't know_, he wanted to say, but all these eyes were on him and he didn't know if he could speak the truth aloud. _I don't know. I'm scared_.

"Yeah!" He grinned hard enough that his eyes closed with the force of it, rubbing the back of his head as he let the lie slip past his teeth. "I'm doin' fine!"

* * *

><p>The moment they had entered Mephisto's study—alone and without any prying, intelligent ears this time—Fujimoto had to bite his tongue in order to stop himself from screaming at his long-time, soon-to-be-ex friend. Knowing Mephisto as well as he thought he did, Shirou knew that engaging in an argument before the demon had sat down behind his desk was simply asking for more difficulty. He was petty like that.<p>

In fact, his pettiness had already been upped a few levels. Mephisto trailed his purple-gloved fingers across the surface of the smooth wood, a smirk on his face. "Sit down, Father Fujimoto; we should talk like civilized gentlemen."

Legs stiff, Shirou nodded and moved over as best he could, settling into the offered armchair with all the elegance of a sickly rooster. Except he wasn't sickly; he was merely very, very angry. Furious, even. "You first, Mehpisto Pheles."

Talking aggravated the wounds on the sides of his tongue where his teeth had broken the surface of the muscle. But that was _nothing_ compared to the implications of the demon's actions.

The demon—King of Time, Lord Samael—huffed out and folded himself into the chair with a kind of grace that was simply unearthly. "We're not in the company of others, my dear Fujimoto. I would grant you the use of my name—I believe that this conversation is going to call for it."

"You gave me your _word_, Samael," he said, except it came out as more of a growl than anything. The fury that had set into his heart when he'd seen the King of Earth attacking his son and realized that he couldn't have gotten in without permission from the King of Time was rising up through his chest and burning up the sides of his throat. "You gave me your _word_ that you would not set anybody on Rin again. You promised that after the Neuhaus incident that this _would not happen_."

Samael leaned back in his chair, elbows on his cushy armrests and fingers woven together. "And it did not," he said, low and even and with a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Amaimon was not attacking with the intent to kill. He did not proclaim young Okumura Rin's inheritance to his human comrades. He was simply playing."

"_Playing_," Fujimoto croaked, the edges of hysterical, infuriated laughter cutting the word up into three syllables. "Playing. He was playing."

The demon raised an eyebrow. "That is what I said."

He chuckled a little at the notion. "Yes, he was playing. He was playing with Rin and his friends as though they were mice and he was the cat. Assure me more, Samael, for this is certainly making me understand your insistence on testing my child when I have told you that all you needed to do was _ask_."

"That takes all the fun out of it," Samael dismissed, but the motion he made to flap a hand was aborted, and his eyes were a little narrowed. "How would I know he was serious unless his life—the lives of his friends, even—were potentially in danger?"

"Because Rin may be flippant about some things," Shirou said, clenching his fists and staring Samael straight in his unnatural eyes, "but he is _not_ about his training. And this argument," he slashed a hand out, palm-up, "is _not_ about you not trusting Rin to do his best if you asked him to demonstrate his abilities to you. This is about _you_ abusing _my_ trust."

Samael paused, and then glanced to the side in thought. "My apologies. I had not appraised the situation from that point of view; you know that as much as I study human culture, I do not quite understand human concerns."

Some of the anger settled, but Fujimoto was not convinced. "I understood once, Samael. I did. But I do not understand twice, and I have lost my faith in your trustworthiness." He stood and brushed off his overcoat, the rosary on the string of his glasses clacking lightly with the motion. "I will be removing Rin from True Cross immediately."

Eerie green eyes were on his at once. "Shirou, do not act with such haste! How will he learn? How will he grow if you do such a thing?"

Shirou raised his eyebrows. "He learned well enough the past nine years. While he is not there—as his skirmishes with both Neuhaus and Amaimon have proven—he shows great potential. I can bring him up to pace with at least the bookwork."

Samael shook his head. "I do not mean that, Shirou. I mean his _bonds_; those are important to humans, yes? If you take him out of True Cross, you take him away from his friends, his compatriots! You ruin any social advancements he may have been able to make."

Pursing his lips, Fujimoto Shirou considered this side of the issue. He was about to shake his head and refuse, but then he remembered the betrayal in Rin's eyes when he discovered that his father had no plans on him becoming a certified Exorcist. He imagined what Rin would look like if he found out that Fujimoto Shirou had taken him away from his friends because he was scared for Rin's sake.

A moment after his hesitation, Samael spoke again. "He proved his worth to his classmates today by holding Amaimon off. They will flock to his side because of this! Besides, they have formed emotional connections to him; why would that power drive them away?"

He chewed at the inside of his mouth, and then sat back down. "You must promise me, in no uncertain terms," he said, quiet and still fueled a little bit by the anger he'd felt just moments earlier, "that you will not test Rin anymore. You will not orchestrate challenges for him. You will not send champions to fight against him. You will not do _anything_ that will endanger my son. Or so help me God, I will pull him out of True Cross quicker than you can make a sound with that silver tongue of yours, friends or no. And there will be no coming back."

"Of course," Samael nodded, solemn and earnest all at once. "I swear on everything I hold dear to my heart that my actions will not repeat themselves a second time."

Fujimoto Shirou looked him in the eye, unwilling to barter with his son's life and well-being. He did not speak; Samael knew exactly what Shirou wanted him to do.

With a somewhat sour look on his face, Samael placed a hand over where his heart should be. "I swear on my given name that I will not orchestrate another test. I swear on the title of King of Time. I swear on everything that I have constructed over the centuries here in Assiah. Is that sufficient?"

"It will have to be," he said, soft and still a little high off adrenaline. "Rin would be very upset if he had to leave his first friends behind."

Honestly, Fujimoto thought to himself as Samael reverted back into his guise of Mephisto Pheles, the only reason he hadn't booked it out of that office was just because of that. Because of Rin. He just hoped that this decision was the right one.

* * *

><p>They were in one of the common rooms along the dorm hallway, Neko sipping away at warm milk and cinnamon and staring off into space. Renzou was waxing on poetic about how awful it was that that ghost-kid had managed to cop a feel of 'Angelina-chan's majestic, perfectly-sized boobs' before being dissipated through her sheer fury, but Bon was only half-listening to that tale. Memorization did take effort, after all, even if you were talented at it.<p>

"I had wanted to cop those!" Renzou yowled, burying his head in his hands. "At least I didn't have to deal with a King of Earth—I'm sure he's got lots of bug kin, and that just would not have been nice."

Bon looked up from the latest Aria assignment and over at Neko. "How did that go down, anyways? You guys were all pretty quiet about it." Rin had even elected to just crash in his room; the poor guy could barely stand, so Bon let him skip the study session just this one time. Not that there was much studying going on.

Glancing over from where he was studying the polished wood siding of the wall, Neko pursed his lips and hesitated before speaking. "Well…if we hadn't had the Paladin there, I think that we probably would have died."

"Were there bugs?" Renzou shuddered and hugged himself, eyes darting from one shadowed corner of the room to the other. He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"No," Neko said, and drank a little bit of his evening beverage. "It was just the King of Earth—he didn't bring any of his kin into the fight."

Bon nodded. That made sense; if there was only one opponent and if Fujimoto-san was close by to begin with, no wonder they were still in one piece. Rin being a pile of goo was a little odd, but he couldn't say that he wouldn't be the same if he'd run into that guy. "Good thing that the Paladin was there in the first place," he grunted, and returned his attention to his papers. _For should thou forgive others their trespasses, then the Lord shall forgive thine in turn, but if thou should not, then…_

"That's the thing," Neko murmured into the silence, "Fujimoto-san wasn't there from the start. He got there about a minute or so after Amaimon attacked us."

_…the Lord shall also…_ "Wait, what?"

"So," Renzou said, as wide-eyed as Bon felt, "the King of Earth just…talked at you for that whole time and didn't do anything? Because I don't see how you're alive if he did that. Attack, I mean."

Neko shook his head. "Rin held him off."

For a moment, Bon honestly couldn't comprehend what his childhood friend had just said. Rin? Holding off a _Demon King_? This had to be a hallucination.

"It isn't a hallucination, Bon. It's not a dream, either." Shit, had he said that out loud? He looked up and met Neko's eyes. "Rin held Amaimon off long enough for Fujimoto-san to run from wherever he was in the park to us. He…I couldn't see them _move_, sometimes."

"What the hell?" Bon's Aria homework was completely forgotten. "Are you sure that was _Rin?_" He wasn't a slouch in Knight classes, but he didn't seem to be comfortable with a lot of the styles there either.

"Of course it was!" Neko mumbled, swirling his mug around and mixing some of the cinnamon back into the warm milk. "He was worried about us not trusting him because he hadn't shown us his sword yet—Tsunagiri, I believe. I didn't hear the name but once."

Bon slapped a hand on the table. "Aaagh, _that's_ what's been bothering me all week—how the hell did I forget to _ask_ him?"

"Don't know. We all forgot, I guess. Anyway, he pulled out the sword to protect us. I recognized it by the tassel at the end." Neko curled his hands around the white ceramic mug with 'I was a cat in a past life!' printed on it. Buying that for him was a good memory—he and Renzou had snuck it under Neko's nose while shopping, and that was no easy feat. Neko's mind was like a steel trap.

"Shit," Bon sighed, leaning back and holding his forehead with one hand. "Why the hell is he an Esquire, then? Anybody who can hold off a Demon King for any length of time has got to be at _least_ Middle-Exorcist level."

Neko was silent, and Renzou laughed a little nervously in the pause. "Well, he…he is really strong, and all, and…yeah, I can see why you'd be weirded out, Neko."

Bon leaned back forward and studied Neko, who was staring at what was left of his hot milk as if he was peering through it. He recognized the crease in his brow, the way his eyes were focused so intently on absolutely nothing. He could see the gears turning.

He didn't know how, but… "That's not all, is it?"

Slowly, Neko swung his head from left to right and then back again. "No. He…Amaimon, the King of Earth, that is, he said that he was Rin's. Um. Big brother."

His head spun with the implications. "What?"

"And then he said that he wasn't allowed to specify for whatever reason; I think it has to do with the conversation that Fujimoto-san had with the Headmaster."

Renzou leaned forward. "Yeah, I heard that the Paladin nearly blew up at the guy; that's what Takumi was muttering about, at least. He didn't give me much, though. What happened exactly?"

There was only the slightest hesitation before Neko continued speaking. It was difficult for Bon to follow, because he was still stuck on the whole 'big brother' revelation. "I can only say that Fujimoto-san accused Pheles-san of breaking a promise. The promise had something to do with not targeting Rin because of…" Neko bit his lip and closed his eyes, brows furrowing down in thought. "Because of an 'incorrigible need to know everything under the sun'. And then he started talking about Neuhaus-sensei before Pheles-san stopped him from going any further."

"Wait. Neuhaus-sensei? How does he fit into this?" Bon didn't care that his hair was starting to fall into his face; this was too weird. Neuhaus-sensei had left on a very important mission a few days after the exam, and he hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but…

Neko tapped a finger against the mug. "As far as I can tell based on context, the implication was that Neuhaus-sensei was to blame for the…first?...targeting incident."

He let his head fall onto the open Bible. Amaimon was somehow a very human Rin's big brother, Neuhaus-sensei had targeted him and left on an early sabbatical, and Pheles-san was pulling strings and simultaneously pushing all the wrong buttons on the Paladin? How the hell did that fit together?

"What the hell?" Renzou asked, tone low and soft but still shaken with incredulity, and Bon couldn't agree more. "What does this mean?"

Neko was quiet for a moment. "I think it means that Rin's been keeping secrets. Dangerous secrets if my theory is correct."

_Don't say it_, Bon wanted to cry out. But he just kept his mouth shut and his head against the thin, smooth pages of his textbook.

"If you think about it logically and start from the fact that Amaimon called himself Rin's big brother," Neko said, adopting the professional manner he always did when he was explaining something (but his trembling hands told a different story), "then we must consider parentage. Nobody knows who the mothers of the Demon Kings are, only that their father is Satan. While one explanation is that Rin and Amaimon share a demonic mother, I find that very unlikely; Rin has a human form and is able to stay in Assiah. Demons belong in Gehenna, and the likelihood of her giving birth to not only him, but Okumura-sensei, while in Assiah is far less than the likelihood of a human mother becoming impregnated by a demonic father and being left to give birth where she belongs. Assiah. Therefore, because of these facts, it's likely that Satan is Rin's true father."

Bon clenched his jaw and stared down at the grain in the table.

"But Rin doesn't even look like a demon!" Renzou pointed out. "Neither does Okumura-sensei! If they were both Satan's kids, wouldn't they both have fangs and tails and pointy ears and intense bloodlust?"

"And," Bon gritted out, "why is Pheles-san only targeting _Rin_?"

Neko didn't speak for a moment. His fingers were tight around his mug, but Bon could see ripples in the milk. "I don't know. Anyways, all of this is just theoretical; I don't have all the pieces."

_Octavian looks at Rin funny_, Bon thought, and he stood abruptly. "I'm going to get answers from Rin, even if I have to beat them out of him!"

"Wait, Bon!" Renzou grabbed his wrist, and damn he'd gotten stronger since they were nine. "Are you sure that's the best thing?"

"He's our friend!" Bon hissed, and glanced from Renzou to Neko. They were both standing. "He shouldn't be keeping secrets like this!"

Neko grimaced, shifted the mug in his hands. "I know. But it's his choice! If he is—and only _if_, this is just a theory—Satan's ch-child, then he might have a good reason to keep this under wraps! He trusts us enough to show us his sword, but I don't think that he trusts us enough to tell us if he has more. We've only been friends for about four, five months at most."

Bon wrenched his hand out of Renzou's grasp. "Then what the hell do we _do?_"

"We show him that he can trust us," Neko said, tremor in his voice. Bon wanted to tell him to stop trying to be so damn objective, that it was okay to be afraid of the monster that killed your parents. "We do everything to show him that we're his friends. We make sure that he can rely on us."

"But what if he is Satan's kid?" Renzou whispered. "I mean…what if he is? What if he can…you know…"

The conflicted thoughts in his mind were reflected on Neko's pale face. Bon understood completely; what if Rin wasn't the person they'd befriended? What if he was just as cruel as his father? But what if he really was that Rin? Were they right just to leave him in the dust because he had shit luck for genetics?

"I-I don't know," Neko stuttered at last, unfolding his fingers from the ceramic mug on the table before them and looking at the trembling digits. "We—I think we have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

Letting out a breath, Shima laid a hand on Neko's shoulder, face tight and worried. "Neko, are you…"

Neko shook his head. "I can't be scared. I can't be. He's a friend, he's—we don't know for sure yet."

Bon lowered himself into his seat and grasped his head in his hands. "Goddammit," he whispered. "Goddammit."

The Aria homework lay between his elbows, forgotten.


	20. Dreiecke

**A/N: **It's taken me an hour to upload this because my computer is stupid slow for the first hour it wakes up -_-

BUT. IN TERMS OF VA. Again, I haven't started the next chapter yet, and I don't know whether or not that will be a thing by the time of the very very very very very tentative update date of **April 26th**. Barring that (that week is finals for me), it will be up by **May 3rd**. It depends on how much I can write by the 26th, which not be very much because I have papers to write, presentations to cobble together, and art projects to work on. It's getting to be horrible busy.

**ALSO**, when you're done with this chapter, go over to **Oreramar's Mirror Shards** and check out the latest drabble! She wrote something for this chapter, but you have to read this first in order to understand what she's written.

Thank you all for reading VA! I'm simply astounded by how many people are following/favoriting/reviewing/visiting, and I thank you all for taking the time to read this massive piece of work.

Last time: The Exwires meet up at Mepphyland for a small mission to find a ghost that turns ugly when the Demon King of Earth goes after Rin and Konekomaru. Rin holds Amaimon off as long as possible, and discovers a protective failsafe built into Tsunagiri that honestly saves his hide. Father Fujimoto shows up, shows Amaimon who's boss, then proceeds to threaten Mephisto (in the privacy of the Headmaster's office) with pulling Rin out of the Exorcist program at True Cross. Mephisto turns serious and promises not to throw any more tests at Rin, and cites Rin's friends as a reason to let him stay. Fujimoto reluctantly agrees, but warns that one more toe out of line means that they're gone. Later that night, the Kyoto trio's doing some studying and Neko pieces together the puzzle of Rin with Bon and Shima. Without explicit proof of Rin's heritage, however, they're stuck in limbo-wait and see what happens, and try to be his friend in the meantime.

On to the chapter!

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty: <em><span>Dreiecke <span>_

(Triangles)

.

Shirou scribbled his signature half on top of and half through the bottom line, and sighed. Really, did he need to authorize every single report that came through? Did he really need to flip through the roster of available Exorcists and choose a group for each mission? Slapping the paper to the side, he nudged his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Of course he did. A busy man is one easy to keep in check.

A glance up at the clock left him pondering how plausible it was to think he could get away with being at the train station fifteen minutes early; keys were sometimes too useful, honestly. Would it be strange if he was just standing there, waiting for the Cram Students to arrive?

There was a knock on the door, and Kidomaru-san stuck his head around the corner. "Fujimoto-san?"

He raised his eyebrows and slid the next package of papers off the top of his (thankfully dwindling) stack. "Yes, Kidomaru? Did you need something?"

"We had a Third-Degree Knight come in with, well, more paperwork." As he pushed the door open, Fujimoto had the great displeasure to see a stack of documents piled up to the man's shoulders in his hands. His head fell to the desk.

"Put them over there," he mumbled, gesturing to the side of the desk where he could hopefully just forget that they existed until one of the grumpy Vatican members called him and told him that if he continued to neglect his duties, they'd kick him out of office. It was amazing they hadn't already—probably because paperwork wouldn't be a good enough reason to strip him of his title. "I'll get to them after the retreat."

A few days wouldn't kill them. Hopefully, the paperwork wouldn't stack up too high…

"Fujimoto-san," Kidomaru-san began, and Shirou lifted his head, arms still on the table. The man was looking to the side, thick hands shifting underneath the stack of papers. "We were talking about it and…Sir, it is usually lower-level Exorcists who handle the documents you are dealing with now, correct?"

He nodded, unsure of what the point was. "You lot already know this; Lord knows I've been complaining about it every time I sit down in this damn office."

"If you want, we could," The thick-set clergyman stopped, and then glanced to the side, the right side of his mouth quirking up in a nervous grin. Fujimoto hadn't seen that grin in _years_. "Well, Hideki-kun has got a really quirky talent that would make the paperwork more or less legitimately vanish from your to-do pile."

Shirou had to think for a moment before he was able to understand exactly what Kidomaru was thinking of. He grinned back. "As much as I would love to see Hideki-kun's magic at work, there might be some pretty important documents mixed in there that are for my eyes only. I wouldn't put it past my superiors to do something like that."

Kidomaru shrugged. "Well, you could go through it and make a couple of to-do piles—you know, one for simple stuff, one for really important Fujimoto-san Paladin stuff. You have a few minutes, don't you?"

The idea was tempting. But upon remembering that he really only had ten minutes left, Fujimoto sighed. "Unfortunately, it's just ten minutes, and certainly not enough time to sort through the whole pile. We might, however, want to revisit this certain knack of Hideki-kun's after the camp."

"If you're sure." The other man smiled. "Remember, you are leaving it to accumulate over the next few days."

Fujimoto groaned and let his head hit the desk. "Don't remind me."

"Why are you going, anyways?" Kidomaru set the stack on the corner of the desk, where the last piece of uncluttered wood was. "God knows you have enough to do."

Rubbing his temples, Fujimoto leaned up and then back into his easy chair. He took a document with him as he did so and raised it up to survey it better. Yet _another_ abandoned house. "I'm going because I've been neglecting my duties as a teacher lately—poor Yukio isn't as much assistant teaching as actually teaching the class. I feel bad. I even promised Yukio that I would; he's not been doing as well in school as he'd like."

Anything less than best five in the grade was, after all, unacceptable for Yukio; he'd only placed seventh from the top. Fujimoto hadn't seen him so close to tears in years.

"That can't be the only reason," Kidomaru said. "You said you felt bad last week, but also that you figured it'd be good character-building for him."

"Tch." Fujimoto flipped through the pages. It was a few kilometers from Kinasa, somewhat secluded, and it appeared there were no keys to the damn thing. "I just…Kidomaru, why are there so many abandoned, demon-infested buildings around?"

"Smooth, Fujimoto-san. Way to avoid the subject. Is it really that embarrassing?"

Apart from the Kinasa shrine, the house was relatively isolated in terms of Exorcism communities, which was _not_ ideal. Fujimoto made a mental note to commission a keysmith and get a portal opened.

Kidomaru paused. "Is it Rin?"

His fingers tightened on the papers. He lowered his tone. "Maybe. It could be nothing. But maybe."

"We'll always be here, you know." Kidomaru said. "If, pardon me, shit goes down and he needs somewhere safe, I might, um, know a few people. A couple safe houses."

Fujimoto met Kidomaru's eyes. Strange, he thought, that other people were already thinking along the same lines he was. It wasn't like Rin was out of control—so what were the warning signs being picked up? _The paperwork, idiot. They've got eyes, you know._

"We, well..." he trailed off. Looked down at the document in his hands. He knew a few people himself, but he also had all this mundane crap the Paladin never usually had to deal with. Perhaps…He looked back up at Kidomaru. Shook his head.

Kidomaru smiled with one side of his mouth. "Not the time?"

"No," he said, and grinned. "Not right now, but as soon as I get back, you, Hideki-kun, and I are going to have a talk."

* * *

><p>Angel having wardrobe malfunctions were really the most hilarious things <em>ever<em>. Once, he'd forgotten one (just one!) of his inserts and had only noticed halfway down the hall to class. Shura had pretended to be engrossed by the game she was playing, but had turned red with suppressed laughter every time she glanced over (which was once every ten seconds or so). Fortunately for Angel, there was a bathroom nearby, and he stuffed a liberal amount of toilet paper in as a poor substitute. He'd even made Shura help.

The memory alone brought tears to Shura's eyes.

This time, however, Angel had forgotten not the insert, but both pairs of women's compression shorts he used to hide his dick, and had to backtrack to their shared dorm space to retrieve them. Shura was told to tell their teacher—the 'genius, but unfortunately likely to be working against the best interests of the True Cross Order' Okumura Yukio—that Angelina had a 'wardrobe malfunction' that couldn't be postponed but would be by soon.

Everything about this was a win-win situation, she mused as she watched poor Yukio-chan pinch the bridge of his nose and hold in a growl of frustration. Yeah, she felt kind of sorry for the poor guy because of the extra stress, but his reactions were the _best_.

"So," she drawled in her deep Yamada voice, "I'll let you know if she gets me any more info. Not sure why she wouldn't call you, but…eh."

"Thank you, Yamada-kun," he said, just a bit strained. "It's…good of you to look after a classmate like that."

Shura shrugged, moved to stand right on the painted stripe before the trolley tracks. The overseer of the small station gave her a nervous glance, and kept looking her way. She resisted the urge to grin at him, and shuffled a little closer to the line; she wouldn't jump, of course, but the blood draining from the overseer's face was priceless. She would have watched the poor man do his best to avoid a conniption, but her cell started vibrating and she had to pay mind to it instead. Pity.

Even more the pity, because it was Baldy calling, of all people. She sighed, flipped the phone open, and held it to her ear. "Yamada," she said, long and lazy on the last syllable.

"I'm at the station," 'Angelina said, and there was a shit ton of background noise going on. "But I seem to be unable to locate you in this crowd. Could you give me a signal as to where you are?"

Angel never learned, she thought absentmindedly. She could do anything to signal him—in fact, she had a couple firecrackers stashed somewhere that would certainly cause a disturbance. "Kay. One problem though—I don't see no crowds here."

He was silent a moment. "Huh?"

A shout pulled her attention away from Baldy and back to the steps she'd just come down. Just past the tail end of the trolley were Rin and his guy friends (sans Dreadlocks, who'd been forced to stay behind because of his still-healing injury), joking around and almost dragging the pink-haired one by his shirt collar. He appeared to have a black eye. Yukio appeared to be trying to beat the earth into submission with his tapping.

"Okay," she said, turning to walk over to Yukio. The trolley supervisor seemed to wilt in relief. "Where are you?"

"Um…I'm—_you bastard!_" Angel shrieked, quite passably feminine in the pitch. "_Did you just feel me up_?"

Ah, Angel. "Don't worry about that, it's normal. Where are you?"

"Like the mail said, south side!" Angel's voice was deeper than it should have been for Angelina, and it sounded as though he was clenching his jaw. "And what do you mean, it's normal? How is that normal?"

Shura groaned. They'd have discussions about being a woman on public transit later—she was about to give Yukio a serious breakdown. Not that he looked to be needing any help there, given how stiff he was with Rin's arm around his shoulders. "You idiot, the station you want isn't on the south side, it's on the east side."

"But—it said South, and there are several schoolchildren here, and—"

Yukio looked up from his conversation, and Shura waved. "That's why we're not using that line, are you stupid? Angelin_a_, look, we're not…ah, I'm telling sensei now. Sensei," she said, "Angelina's going to be late because she's a ditz with tits bigger than her brain."

"_What is that supposed to mean?_"

'Sensei' twitched and smiled. Rin drew his hand back somewhat hastily and stepped to the side. "If you might tell Octavian-chan that we will be leaving, with or without her, in," he looked down at his watch, "approximately one and a quarter minutes, I would appreciate it."

Shura snickered.

"No no no, tell them to wait—_excuse me, pardon me, I am so sorry_—I'll be there! I can't not be there, we have to be there because—because—you know!"

"Better start running!" She sing-songed, and cut him off with the satisfying snap of the flip phone. She took it back—talking to Baldy was great.

"Thank you, Yamada-kun, for keeping me posted on the situation." Yukio's fingers, when she looked up, were pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. She frowned a little; those shadows under his eyes were not looking very healthy at all. Part of her wanted to drag him off and make sure that he was sleeping enough, because Rin was a deadweight sleeper and wouldn't notice if Yukio stayed up all night with the lights on and she had the sneaking suspicion that the other two bozos were the same. But another part couldn't do that—it wasn't like her.

So instead, she grinned. "Naw, it ain't a problem. Yer workin' real hard, teach."

Yukio blinked. Rin tilted his head, confusion crossing his face.

"And yer," Shura said to Rin, still murmuring, "yer've been losing a lot lately. If yer've skimped on the training, I'll beat yer ass from here to next week."

A constipated, almost afraid expression flashed across the elder Okumura's face before he smirked at her. "Hah! I'd like to see you try, _Yamada_."

Yukio sighed and buried his face in his hands. Her eyebrows rose. That little brat, thinking that he could manipulate the situation just because she had a cover to keep; the worst part was that he was kind of right. She couldn't thrash him; Yamada wasn't supposed to show any kind of physical power. Rin smirked and crossed his arms across his chest. It was the smirk that usually _Yukio_ wore when he won in an argument, and it felt utterly wrong on Rin's face. It felt even more wrong directed at her, and she was _not_ going down without a fight.

Moans and groans from the stairs to her right caught her attention, and she watched as a beat-upon Shima Renzou fell to the ground at Izumo Kamiki's feet, clutching at her legs and wailing something. She hit him over the head with her bag and screamed at Pinkie to let her go.

Shura felt a burst of inspiration, grinned wickedly, and took Rin's chin in one gentle hand. The smirk on Rin's face froze. Pinkie crooned out pleads for mercy and promises of 'a million dates where he'd shower compliments upon Kamiki's beautiful blushing face' that cut short with a yelp. Behind her, she was dimly aware of the train arriving.

"Oh, Rin-chan," she said, projecting her voice. She paused, felt satisfaction at the sudden silence that overtook the station, then continued in Yamada's monotone. "Rin-chan, I have admired you with all my heart from day one—would you do me the…_pleasure_…of being the uke to my seme?"

At that moment, she really, _really_ wished she had a camera on hand, because the expression he made was absolutely glorious. The unintelligible noise he let out when she snaked a hand across his shoulder was even better.

"I understand if you can't give me an answer immediately," she droned, "but I cannot hold myself back any longer! You will always have my greatest affections."

A clatter by the stairs had her glancing over, only to see a red-faced, incredulous Angel staring at her. "What are you even _doing_?!" he shrieked, again passably high-pitched for a girl.

Rin gurgled. Shura grinned, inspiration striking.

"You!" she shouted—with as little inflection as she could—as she wheeled around to point at Angel. She pressed her cheek against Rin's chin and felt him freeze up. "Angelina-baka, I will not give up Rin-chan! You'll have to pry him out of my cold dead hands!"

Angelina-baka just spluttered and dropped her bag onto the stairs. It tumbled down a few steps to stop by Pinkie's head. The silence was dead satisfying.

There was a sound of a key in a lock, and Fujimoto stumbled out of a janitor's closet nearby. "Sorry I'm late, I was just finishing up some paper…work…"

Rin let out the most adorable croaking noise and turned blotchy.

"What the hell did I miss?"

Greatest. Day. _Ever_.

* * *

><p>It was hot. It was unbearably hot, actually, in the standard male True Cross uniform, but Yukio was used to the stifling cotton and the sensation of sweat seeping through his button-down. The Exwires, on the other hand…<p>

"I don't feel like an exorcist," Shima-kun panted. "This is false advertising. I demand a refund!"

"There's no use in asking!" Father said, sounding chipper but flagging notably in the summer heat. "The True Cross covered the expenses for this; I should know, I lobbied for it myself! So enjoy!"

The class groaned, Shima-kun's voice rising above the rest. Kamiki-san complained about the mosquitos just as Yukio smacked one attempting to snack on his neck. She wasn't wrong about the damn bugs.

"I feel like one of those marching soldiers," Suguro-kun said, hitching his pack and supplies further up on his shoulders.

Rin's voice echoed from somewhere ahead of Yukio. His enthusiasm was enough to make Yukio want to lay down and not move anymore. "Oooooh, there's a waterfall up here, you guys need to come see it, quick!"

"Where does…he get all that…energy?" Kamiki-chan panted, sweat gleaming by her hairline. She'd volunteered to carry one of the tents with a steely glint to her eye, and everybody had been too cowed to not let her.

Yukio smirked. "Who knows? Perhaps he swapped his brains for my brawn before birth."

Father laughed, as did Shiemi-chan, but the rest were rather silent on the matter. Frowning, Yukio thought about what he said. He thought he'd get a rise out of at least Shima-kun, but apparently not.

They turned the bend to the sight of Rin, his head stuck under the tiny waterfall and mouth wide open. Yukio resisted the urge to facepalm. "Okumura-kun. Why."

"But it's so good!" Rin sputtered as he withdrew. "Guys, you gotta try it!"

As he went by, Father tapped Rin on the head. "Come on, idiot. We've still got ground to cover, and I doubt anybody wants to spend any more time out here."

"I'm not an idiot!" Rin protested, splashing water on their father. He glanced back at his fellow Exwires. "And seriously, try it!"

"Maybe another time, Rin," Shiemi-chan said, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder. "Besides, it might not be as safe as you think it is."

"Y-Yeah," Shima-kun piped up, voice just a little odd, "what if a deer peed upstream?"

Yukio lingered just long enough to watch Rin's face go through variations of revulsion. As his brother pushed himself away from the waterfall and started scraping at his tongue with his hands, the younger twin turned around and moved forward, Father right behind him.

Thirty minutes of idle chit-chat and frenzied mosquito-slapping later, they came to a clearing in the woods; Yukio's watch read almost five-thirty. As good a time as any, he figured, and motioned for his students to stop. They all halted in differing stages of exhaustion, all peering at him with something in their eyes that suggested they were trying to mentally compel him to allow them to quit.

For a moment, he thought about saying they would continue on to the next clearing, just for the look on their faces. But the moment passed, and he exchanged a look with Father, who nodded.

"All right everybody, this looks like a suitable place to set camp. Feel free to stand down."

"Knew this felt like marching soldiers," Suguro-kun grumbled, setting his pack down as carefully as he could.

"What did you think you were asking for when you signed up to be Exorcists?" Father didn't wait for a reply, and instead gestured to the trees surrounding them. "Now, listen up—this forest may look pretty damn safe right now, but once the sun sets, the lower-level demons inside wake up and it becomes a veritable hive. What does this mean?"

The silence was only punctuated by panting as the teenagers tried to regain their breath. It wasn't surprising, then, that Octavian-chan beat Miwa-kun to the punch. "It means, of course, that we have to finish setting up our base, Fujimoto-sensei."

"Bingo, baby!" Father winked and pulled a finger gun in her direction. She looked horrified.

Yukio sighed. "Moving on. To accomplish this, we will separate into two groups; one group, the boys, will come with me and be tasked with lighting the fire and setting up the tents. The girls will go with Fujimoto-sensei, and will prepare both dinner and the protective circle around the encampment. Are there any questions?"

"Sensei," Father said in a high-pitched voice, waving his hand, "I have a question."

He mustered up his best flat glare. It, as usual, had no effect.

"I'm fine with teaching the girls, but can't I have Rin? That way, there are four students in one group and five in the other. Remember, Yu—Okumura-sensei, caring is sharing!"

Yukio ignored the last part. "That seems fair to me. Are there any objections?"

"Sensei," Octavian-chan pouted, and he couldn't help but feel that it was just a bit overdone. "I don't feel safe with Okumura-san handling the food. What if he ruins it?"

He didn't even need to be looking at Rin to see the stricken expression on his face. But he turned his head anyways, and saw the Kyōto trio all but flinging Rin towards the girls' side.

"Take him!" Shima-kun cried, and were those actual tears falling down his face? "Take him! Don't help him cook, just make him! He can't get out of it now!"

"I was never going to try to!" Rin squawked. "I promised I'd make you all bento someday, it just hasn't happened yet!"

"Like hell," Bon growled. "Go. Leave. Make food."

Yukio turned back to Octavian-chan, who was looking more and more affronted. "I believe you've been outvoted," he said. "I think you'll have to live with it."

"But sensei—"

"You've been outvoted," Yukio said, and in one quick, well-practiced motion, shed his heavy jacket. The relief was both instantaneous and rejuvenating; enough so that he didn't lecture his students for muttering behind his back about thinking he might have been an alien after all.

Setting up the tents went quickly; Yukio amused himself by listening in on Father struggle to get Rin to set up the protective barrier quickly before sending him off to prep the food alone. He then imagined how much longer it might have taken them if Rin was still on _his_ team; Rin had never set up a tent in his life, and would probably have been so amused with one that he would have single-handedly dismantled it.

Halfway through setting up the fire, Kamiki-chan and Octavian-chan showed up to lend a hand. "The idiot over there is getting twitchy," Kamiki-chan explained, "and said that he needed the fire to start the curry. They're just finishing setting up the pots."

"I'm _not going to answer either one of them_!" Rin yowled, face horribly red, hands waving everywhere. "_Why _would you _ask_ that?"

"It's very rude to ignore a confession, Rin!" Shiemi scolded, and Yukio had a sudden coughing fit as he put the pieces of conversation together. When he composed himself, he noticed Yamada-kun making an 'I've got my eyes on you' gesture at Octavin-chan, who went all sorts of red in her face.

There was booming laughter from behind him, and Yukio tilted his head back to see Father standing above him. "I suppose you had better finish this quickly, then! Yo, Okumura-sensei, a word if you don't mind."

Yukio glanced at the fire-pit in progress to survey its stability—the framework was all down, at least—and nodded. "Carry on without me, then. Kamiki-chan, Octavian-chan, if you would help…"

Without waiting to see if they complied or not, he stood, brushed the dirt off his knees, then followed Father away from the rest of the group, to the very edge of the circle. From there, he saw Rin gesticulating wildly at a laughing Shiemi-chan, his face a beautiful shade of red. He tilted his head down at Father.

"You wanted to talk to me, Fujimoto-sensei?"

The next thing he knew, Father was slapping him on the back the way he absolutely _hated_. "Don't be so serious all the time, Yukio! Check out the ladies; those uniforms are too damn good for a boy your age to be wasting that kind of view."

Yukio sighed. "I am their teacher. I believe that such conduct is not looked upon positively; my question is why _you_ are admitting to notice."

"Hey! No touching involved, just a bit of watching. Relax! It won't hurt you."

"Rin's been proving us wrong the past few months," Yukio pointed out dryly. "I may not have been privy to your altercation with the King of Earth, but I was with Neuhaus-sensei mere weeks before."

Father sobered. "Yeah, I know. You're okay, right?"

"Just some bruising," Yukio fudged. His side was still mottled yellow and green, but Father didn't need to know that. "It was nothing major. I'm fine."

"Little brat," his father said, a little grin on his face. "I already got the rundown from the medic who attended you last time. What I meant was are you okay, especially with all the shit that's been going down lately?"

Yukio frowned. "Elaborate."

In response, Father sat down on the earth: legs stretched out before him, resting the weight of his upper body on his hands, fingers splayed just inches from the closest line of the protective ring. He shifted a bit to his left, patted the ground with his right hand, and then shifted back. Yukio sat in a more controlled manner, legs crossed and fingers folded together.

For a while, they sat together and just watched the Exwires bumble around; Miwa-kun toppled the firewood pyramid on accident, and Octavian-chan finally got sick enough of everybody else's incompetence that she took over constructing the most elaborate bonfire known to man.

"I know I haven't been around much," Father said, and Yukio glanced over to see him staring up at the evening sky. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't realize that my teaching position would be so overrun by my position as Paladin this year. It's worked out in the past."

"I understand," Yukio said, and he did. He might not know everything, but he knew enough to know Father was under a lot more pressure than he was.

Father laughed, soft and self-depreciating. "You shouldn't have to, idiot. You shouldn't have to deal with this teaching crap, or this protecting Rin crap, or this stupid subterfuge game we have going on with the Vatican crap. You deserve to focus on your schooling."

"But I'm glad to do that. Help you both out." Yukio pushed back the frustration, the flash of incompetence he'd felt at achieving only seventh in his grade. "Additionally, all Exorcists get missions; being a teacher allows me much more stability for my schooling than taking on more mainstream assignments. You shouldn't worry."

"Cut the crap, Yukio." Father shifted closer, flung an arm across Yukio's shoulders. He stiffened; if the students looked over, they could see. He was a teacher, he was a role-model! He was a pillar of strength—and while he could understand Rin not understanding, his father was a completely different subject!

He made to push the arm off. "Father, what do you think you're—"

"Yukio."

He paused his efforts. After a moment, he let his hand drop back into his lap.

His father drew a breath in, then let it out in a deep long sigh. "Yukio," he said, this time softer. "Listen to me, son."

Yukio hesitated, then nodded.

"I know your grades are important for you. Ah! No, don't interrupt me with placations about how they're not important in the grand scheme of things. They're still important to you. You've always had this obsession with living up to your own impossible standards, which I don't personally understand, but well. I never was the model student. Much too much like Rin for that."

Yukio snorted. "Not sure you know the most of it."

"Nah, I know more than you know." His arm was warm across Yukio's shoulders; almost too warm. "But the thing is, I know you're upset about being seventh. And I feel responsible for that."

"Don't!" Yukio burst out, tense with self-recrimination. "I should have studied more, it's my fault for not looking over my notes enough."

"And whose fault is it that you didn't have time for that? You've been grading everything. And teaching everything. And honestly, I've been more of the TA than you have. I haven't been there for you, and I regret that."

"No, you don't—"

Father shushed him, patted his shoulder. "No, I'll be helping out more from now on. If you need to go off and do your thing—like missions, or studying, or even goddamn relaxing with people you're comfortable with for once in your life—I can take some time to take care of my neglected duties."

"But your paperwork!"

With a snicker, Father waved him off. "Nah, don't worry about that. I've got a plan, we'll be fine. You just…enjoy your childhood. And, I imagine," he pointed back at the main camp, which had erupted in cheering from the Kyōto trio as Rin set the rice over the fire to cook, "watching all those greenies stumble about on the next task."

Yukio felt a bit of relief, but almost immediately was beset by worry. "You don't think anything will happen, will it?"

Father laughed, but it was tense and cold. "If it does," he said casually, arm falling off Yukio's shoulders, "then I imagine that the Headmaster and I will not be very close friends anymore."

Observing his father's face, Yukio remembered how for Father Fujimoto, that kind of laughter was the calm before the storm. He also remembered Mephisto and the awful, predatory feeling he got when staring at the Headmaster for very long. Somehow, he did not feel as reassured as he thought he should be.

"Yooooo!" Rin yelled, and Yukio looked up. "It'll be another like thirty minutes until dinner—you wanna have us do anything else?"

Shima-kun smacked the back of Rin's head, then looked a bit startled at himself. He, nevertheless, hissed something at Yukio's brother, who bristled.

"Whaddya mean don't ask? Whaddya mean everything's done? There might be something else!"

Yukio chuckled a little, then watched Father stand. The elder of the two extended an arm down.

"I'll send him over!" Father called back, then looked down at Yukio. "Go on, hang out with them. Don't worry so much about being a teacher; you're a student yourself."

Taking his hand, Yukio levered himself up off the ground. "What are you doing?"

Father shrugged. "Just going to take a look around, make sure everything's going smooth and all."

_Patrol_, Yukio thought. "I can always go with you, make sure that—"

"Hey! What did I just say?" Father grinned and didn't wait for Yukio's answer. "Go have fun. If you have to justify it to yourself, you're overseeing the camp. But don't be so serious about it!"

With that, Fujimoto carefully stepped over the protective boundary ring, and Yukio watched him enter the underbrush. He looked old, Yukio realized again. He smiled, but he looked so old.

Yukio exhaled, then drew himself back together with the next breath. He turned, started to march back to the center of camp.

"Yamada-kun, would you kindly let go of Okumura-kun's elbow? Shima-kun, fire is not to be played with, you could burn yourself if you hold your fingers so close to the flames. And Octavian-chan, I am surprised by how well you put that fire—_you do not punch a fellow Exorcist without warning_! Yamada-kun may be seriously hurt!"

Seventh place hurt something hard, Yukio thought as he had Yamada-kun shove his sweatshirt sleeve up. But Father had enough on his plate as it was—who was he to complain about his trivial worries?

* * *

><p>As spotty-four-eyes explained the whole lantern deal, Shura rolled her eyes and exchanged a glance with Angel. This test was obviously built for rookies; missions were most often taken in teams, and even solo missions required cooperation between the Exorcist and the people in the vicinity of the target. Scattering in different directions and having only three targets was a thin smokescreen for the working together shit! It wasn't expressly forbidden, so it was free game.<p>

Not that any of the kids seemed to realize that. Shura, again, rolled her eyes. Silly greenies, not looking into the situation at all. Honestly, it'd be much too easy to steal all the lanterns away from the brats. Her only competition would be Angel.

Yukio droned on about the cute little bags he'd supplied for them, and Fujimoto, the old geezer, continued from there by warning them about the demons in the forest. Shura tuned them out, nudged Angel in the side.

"Not fair for the rest of these brats if we take two lanterns, is it?" She muttered out of the side of her mouth, nearly silently.

"It is a test," he said.

"Bet you never had a test with two Upper First Classes, baldy."

"I am not _bald_," he bit out. As Yukio smiled and said something about 'using your strengths to the fullest to succeed,' however, Angel hunched his shoulders and said, "I suppose you do have a point. Your plan?"

They were called to disperse and grab their bags, but Shura snuck in the last whispered word. "A bet. I carry the lantern the furthest, you play along with my thing. You carry it the furthest…whatever you want."

"Your thing?" Angel hissed, and Shura stuck her hands in her hoodie and walked off to grab a pack.

"Honestly," No-brows was saying, "it's good that this isn't a test of cooperation; the real world doesn't work like that. I'm rather relieved"

Pinkie laughed. "No grudges, everybody?"

Shura slung the pack up and over her shoulders. She turned, pointed a finger at Angel, who dropped the bag he'd picked up. "What?"

"You!" she intoned, deep-voiced. "You and I shall have a competition between the two of us! We will compete for the same lantern, and whoever carries it back will win the right to Rin-chan's heart!"

Rin choked. Angel went red in the face with both embarrassment and understanding. Shura grinned, wicked sharp.

"Would you both just stop," Rin moaned, but it was too late—Angel had already stood and shoved his arms through the straps of the bag.

"Fine!" he hissed. "Fine! Have it your way. I'll win this bet if it's the last damn thing I do!"

There were mixed reactions at this proclamation. No-brows slapped her face and sighed, Cocks-head squinted at them in suspicion, and Shiemi—Ms. Boobs, Shura decided—let out a squeal and covered her mouth with her hands. "Rin!" she whispered, pawing at his arm. "Rin, they're fighting over you!"

"They need to stop," he moaned, and probably would have said something even louder had Yukio not chosen that moment to interrupt their little drama.

"Everybody to their starting spots!" he called out, gun held aloft.

Shura settled behind hers and sent Angel—to her left—a grin. She sent him an 'I'm watching you' gesture, and watched his jaw clench in glee.

"Ready…set…"

This was going to be great. Not only would she be able to break just a little loose, but if any collateral damage to the flora in the wake of their competition caused the greenies to shit themselves, then all the better.

"Go!"

* * *

><p>Neko hadn't expected to run into Shima-kun as quickly as he had, despite starting so close together. He had, however, hypothesized that Shima-kun would be an absolute mess of nerves with all the lower-level-demons inhabiting moths.<p>

"They aren't even attacking us, Shima-kun," he sighed. Honestly, how was his long-time friend supposed to succeed at being a Knight if he couldn't even get his own phobias under control?

"They're evil," Shima-kun hissed, and swung at a demon-moth so hard Neko heard it squelch against a tree some meters away. "They're abominable evil beings, worse than even Satan. If Satan had spawn, _this would be them_."

Neko pursed his lips and tried not to think about possible Satan's spawn. It didn't work very well, and he was very glad that the flashlights they had weren't LED.

"Sorry," his friend muttered, and Neko looked up to meet Shima-kun's eyes. "I didn't mean to…"

The shorter shook his head. "No. It's fine. I…we don't know for sure." _We also don't know for sure that he's not,_ Neko was unable to keep from thinking. "Let's keep moving."

"If you say so," Shima-kun said. He kept to Neko's back, and the fact he did drove some of the worry from Neko's mind.

They moved forward for approximately fifteen minutes—maybe a little less, Neko hadn't kept a very close eye on his watch—before they heard the sound of wood cracking into splinters a ways to the southeast. Neko turned, feeling trepidation rise up from his gut and seep into his arms. He swallowed.

"Er, Neko?"

"I—let's keep moving."

Only minutes after changing their direction in more northwesterly direction, Neko started to hear muttering voices. One was very familiar, but Neko didn't rush forward; there were demons that echoed the voices of loved ones, and he didn't particularly want to meet one. They tended to turn into dead people. On reflex, he turned off the flashlight.

"Neko, isn't that—"

He held up a hand, and they halted in place. Tilting his head, Neko listened as hard as he could; if there was any tonal dissimilarity, then they would walk away. They probably should anyways—Bon wasn't their teammate at the moment.

"Would you two just stop _following_ me?"

"Naw," Rin-san's voice was a surprise. Surely he wasn't close enough for a demon to pick up on that particular influence in Neko's life. "We're just heading the same direction. Why're you so hung up about it anyways? It's just me 'n Shiemi."

"I've got no problems with Shiemi-chan, it's _you_ I don't want to see. Go find your own lantern; leave the rest of us non-Demon-King-fighters to squabble over the leftovers."

"And that's why it's weird!" Rin-san shouted, and Neko winced. He'd call so much attention to them if he wasn't actually a demon, which Neko was beginning to think was more and more the case.

Neko glanced back at Shima-san and nodded. Shima-san grinned and bounded past Neko. Moments later, Neko heard a cry of "Shiemi-chaaaaaaaan!", followed by Moriyama-san letting out a shrill shriek of surprise. Shortly thereafter, there was a thud and yelp of pain. Neko, shaking his head, flicked on his flashlight and headed out after his friend.

"You might not want to lay there, Shima-san," he drawled upon coming upon the four of them, Shima-san's face pressed into the base of a tree. "There may be bugs."

Turning away as Shima-san let out a reflexive shriek, he smiled at the other three. "Nice to meet up with the rest of you. How is everything going?"

Bon scowled. "Turn the light off, you're just going to attract all the moths. And it'd be better if _this guy_ didn't insist on following me around."

Rin-san squawked, and Neko could barely meet his eyes without thinking about how blue they were. He turned off the flashlight. "Hey! I'm just teaming up with you and Shiemi, is that such a crime?"

"The point of this isn't _teams, _idiot!" There wasn't enough light to see more than blurry shadows, especially with Neko's eyesight. He bit his lip and wondered if it would be imposing to ask them to use flashlights from here on out. It probably would be.

"Well that's stupid! Teams are more common than solo stuff, you know that—why would they pit greenies against each other like this? Like, you gotta work nice with others, so this makes no sense!"

Neko narrowed his eyes and thought about that.

"But that's not what Yukio-san said, Rin," Moriyama-san murmured. "He said there were only three lanterns, and because of that there are only three slots for an actual mission."

"Exactly!" Bon cried out. "There are only three slots, so only three of us can win, and I'm going to be one of them. There are no teams."

"Guys, can we like, talk and move?" Shima-san said. "Because sure, we're together, but the others aren't and they might get to the lanterns first."

Something cracked and tore in the darkness, and Neko snapped his attention over to his left. A high-pitched cackle echoed through the trees, and there was a low, angry rumble before something else was destroyed.

They were all silent for a moment.

"…and there's that," Shima-san said. "So. Could we go away from that? That sounds dangerous."

Bon sighed, but even that sounded shaky. "Okay. Fine. Let's go. Shiemi-chan?"

"Okay," she whispered. "Nii-chan! Could you get Rina-chan?"

A short squeak later, there were tiny spots of green light erupting all over Shiemi-chan's familiar, who had grown larger and was standing about two feet tall. Within moments, he was illuminating a short distance around him—maybe two or three meters—in an odd, eerie sort of yellow-green. The demon-moths flitted around the edges of the light, but darted off almost immediately.

Neko was just glad to see again, even if everybody's faces looked odd in the bioluminescent illumination. It made not tripping exponentially easier.

"All right!" Rin-san exclaimed in a whisper. "Shiemi, you're the best!"

Moriyama-san smiled. She might have blushed; Neko couldn't tell. "No, no, it's all Nii-chan! Right?"

Her familiar squeaked, and then turned and began walking. Moriyama-san huffed out a 'wait' before following, and Rin-san jogged to walk at her side. At every noise that he heard, his right hand twitched towards his left, and Neko wondered why the other teen didn't just draw his sword if he was so worried.

"Let's go, I guess," Bon said with a shrug. As he passed Neko, he patted the shorter's head. His calluses rasped against the stubble on Neko's head, and Neko wasn't sure what to think of the sensation. Instead of dwelling on it, he moved forward, Shima-san at his side, and considered the idea that the test might not be individual after all.

As they picked their way over branches—away from the cacophony that had Shima-san's _shakujo_ jangling from how much he was shaking—and around trees, Neko ran over what Okumura-sensei had told them. There were three lanterns—that meant, at first glance, that three people could pass. Only those who passed would be able to go on a real mission. That implied a competition, did it not?

Or did it? Neko stared at Rin-san's back in front of him, the white shirt glowing a pale green. Rin-san had said that teamwork was common among licensed Exorcists, and Neko was aware that this was a fact. He also said that greenies, or inexperienced Exwires like themselves, wouldn't be sent out solo. Solo implied that you were powerful enough to handle missions on your own. Neko could understand the logical flaw in the assignment—and if he could, then Okumura-sensei undoubtedly already had.

He narrowed his eyes and nearly tripped over a stone. Letting out a short yelp, he nearly smacked into a tree trunk, avoiding bloody face by bark only because Rin-san had interceded on his behalf.

"Watch out, Neko!" Rin-san smiled with altogether too many teeth. They glinted, even where half his face was obscured by shadow. "Don't want to make your face look like Bon's!"

"Hey!"

"T-thanks," Neko said, and cursed himself at the stutter. Rin-san reached to pat his shoulder, and he couldn't stop flinching. The other boy furrowed his eyebrows.

"Hey, what's—"

"Nothing!" Neko yelped, stepping back and to the side. "It's just. Nerves. That's it. Nerves."

He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

Rin-san stared at him a moment longer, concern morphing itself into something sinister in Neko's mind's eye even though he tried to stop it. The urge to take another step back was barely containable—he couldn't stop seeing blue overlapping Rin-san's features, even though they were cast in green and yellow and it wasn't even close to the harshness that the blue had.

"Everything okay?" Behind him, Shima-san slid a hand over the shoulder Rin-san had just touched, and Neko didn't start. The confusion, then hurt that crossed Rin-san's face had Neko widening his eyes and feeling as though he'd made an unwilling mistake.

"Haha, sorry!" The frown slid off Rin-san's mouth fast enough that Neko almost, almost thought he'd imagined it. "I scared Neko on accident is all. Sorry, Neko."

Neko dregged up a wobbly smile, Shima-san's hand heavy on his shoulder. "It's fine."

As Rin-san turned back to Moriyama-san and answered her questions, Bon leaned in on Neko's other side and murmured, directly into his ear, "You see something?"

Immediately, he shook his head, staring at Rin-san's stiff back. "No. Just being stupid."

"If you say so," Bon breathed, and then withdrew. Shima-san didn't, just nudged Neko forward like the stupid, stupid child he was.

_Focus_, Neko told himself. _Focus on the problem. Not on Rin. Not on what-ifs. The problem_.

He'd just figured it out when, minutes later, they stepped into a clearing and saw the giant stone lantern that no one person could possibly list.

"Well," he said, staring up at the lantern, "nobody was ever going to pass this alone."

Then Izumo-san waltzed into the clearing with her foxes. Shortly thereafter, as she and Bon got into a shouting match, Neko realized that it was going to take a lot of persuasion to make her share the lantern with them.

Allowing himself only one sigh, he stepped forward, pushed aside the what-ifs, and engaged with the new problem.

* * *

><p>Okumura Rin was the most maddening person to exist, Bon concluded on the ride back to True Cross Academy. He stared at his—friend? acquaintance? classmate who maybe kept secrets?—and marveled at exactly how low Rin's jaw could drop in sleep. Bon might be able to throw a baseball in there.<p>

There was a pressure on his arm, and Bon glanced down to his left to see Neko, also asleep and glasses askew on his nose. He'd really pulled out his own talents over the training camp; Bon knew his friend was smart, but that level of strategy had to be prodigious. Getting Kamiki to actually join them, with _Renzou_ on their damn team? That deserved a medal right there.

"Psst. Bon."

Bon looked to Rin's right. "Yeah, Renzou?"

With eyes shifting to the other side of the aisle and back, Renzou leaned forward and hissed, "Do you think he'd mind? Rin. You know. Sleeping. I'm hells of—ah, that is, I'm very tired."

Rolling his eyes, Bon shrugged with his unoccupied shoulder. "Don't be so idiotic. It's not like we know for sure one way or not. Whaddya think he'd do?"

"I _don't know_."

"Just make up your mind. You'll probably end up slouching over there anyways."

Renzou whimpered, muttering "I wish this were Shiemi-chan I was cuddling up to," before gingerly setting first his folded hands on Rin's shoulder, then his head. Rin snorted and moved his free arm to scratch his stomach, but didn't wake up threatening to subject everybody to unholy blue flames.

The image made Bon snort, but also made him a little bit uneasy. Renzou shot him a glare with one eye that looked halfway frightening, then settled down. Within moments, he was snoring.

Bon looked out the window, even though he could see nothing but bits of lighter and darker shadow; the night sky was overcast. It had been that dark in the forest, and that hadn't helped with the freaky noises and Neko's high-strung nerves. It was a relief, therefore, when they realized that the commotion was moving away. Bon still didn't know what had caused all that noise.

They'd caught up with Kamiki at the lantern and there was a short altercation—mostly prissy Kamiki shooting her mouth off at Bon, who returned fire with zero hesitation—before Neko interceded and somehow convinced her that the test wasn't about competition, it was about _teamwork_.

Bon had no idea how the hell he'd figured that out. Okay, Rin had groused about something being off with the whole idea of competing and sure, Neko had a mind that latched onto details like that one Western detective guy with the stupid hat, but Bon didn't understand how he connected dots so _easily_. He'd had maybe ten minutes, and that was with worrying about stupid Rin!

He glanced back at his maybe-friend as Rin let out a low murmur. The other teen's breathing altered slightly, and he started frowning. As Rin's hands began twitching, Bon watched them.

They'd done their best to include Rin as a friend. Seriously; aside from the initial Neko-freak-out, one of the three would snatch him for any partner activities or for team-exercises the first few days after the initial test. Then Shiemi-chan cottoned onto their strategy and put down her foot, exclaiming very loudly that _she_ was Rin's friend and that _she_ should be allowed to spend some time with him too. This, of course, led to Yamada fighting for partnership rights (and damn had that been a surprise or what—he'd have pegged Octavian as being more interested than Yamada, of all people), and Rin had eventually screamed at them all to go away and he was going to team up with Takara and prissy Izumo for the rest of the trip

Despite the trust exercises, however, and despite all the talking and subtle prodding, Rin would not. Open. Up. He wasn't even overtly evasive—just damn oblivious, and it was honestly pissing Bon off the more he thought about it.

In fact, he mused, watching Rin's grimacing face without really seeing it, there wasn't anybody else on this train, and the compartment behind them was empty. Was it really so wrong to wake the idiot up and drag him back there for answers? Obviously, the only way to get any was being as blunt as possible to Rin's face and hoping he didn't try to run away.

Maybe then Renzou wouldn't be so unsure about touching Rin for fear of offending him. Maybe then Neko wouldn't keep himself up so late looking over dates and possible theories and analyzing the reason for Rin's actions, right down to his fucking sneezes. And, just maybe, Bon thought as the train passed through a tunnel, the dim amber light from outside casting Rin's contorted face in eerie shadows, he'd have some peace of mind.

Then Bon blinked, the train pulled out of the tunnel, and he realized that Rin was almost snarling in his sleep and—were those actual tears?

"Fuck it all," he whispered, and gently pushed Neko over to lean against his other armrest. Bon stood and turned to look over the back of his seat. "Okumura-sensei!"

Okumura-sensei peered up at him from where he sat, going over reports and papers from his briefcase. "Yes, Suguro-kun?"

"I think Rin's having…" Bon looked back. Yup, he was crying. "Well, a nightmare."

His teacher frowned, then put the papers aside in the seat next to him. "That's odd," he remarked quietly as he stood, and Bon slid back down into his own seat as Okumura-sensei stepped into their cluster of seats.

"Oi! Renzou!" Bon hissed. "Wake the hell up!"

Renzou stirred a little and his snoring abated, but he only scowled and snuggled further into Rin's shoulder. Rin froze. Seeing this, Okumura-sensei was quick to nudge Renzou to the side and place a firm hand where Renzou's head used to be. Rin began to relax.

"Wha' was tha' foooooor?" Bon's childhood friend whined, rubbing at his eyes. "Tha' was like five minutes."

Bon glared at him, darted his gaze over to Rin and then back at Renzou. Fortunately, his friend woke up fairly quickly and made the smart decision to keep quiet.

For a few long moments, Okumura-sensei just stared at his brother, his expression unreadable from the dim reflection in the train window. Eventually, he rapped his knuckles on Rin's forehead, and Rin startled awake.

"Mmwaaaaaaa?"

"Hey, numbskull nii-san," Okumura-sensei muttered, and suddenly he was a kid their age, "do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

Rin blinked blearily, glanced around at Bon and Neko, then Renzou. He grunted, then shrugged. "'S fine."

"You need to sleep somewhere else?"

At this, Bon bristled. What the hell? Was he insinuating that Rin felt uncomfortable sleeping around them? Five goddamn nights in the same tent with that snoring machine said otherwise. He even opened his mouth to tell his teacher off.

With a yawn, Rin shook his head. "Naw. 'S fine. Won' be stupid. They're m'friends, I'll be fine."

Rin, half-asleep and barely coherent, called them his friends outright, and fuck, didn't that make Bon feel guilty as hell. As the guilt started curling up in his gut, Rin made eye-contact with Bon and grinned sleepily. He flapped a loose hand, then patted Okumura-sensei on the arm.

"Go away. I'm fine. I wanna sleep."

Okumura-sensei stood, suddenly an adult again. "If you say so," he said, and half-turned to Bon. "Tell me if there are any more problems."

"Sure," Bon said. Okumura-sensei nodded, and Renzou made a gurgling noise and slumped back onto Rin, who hummed and settled against the window.

Well, if Renzou was okay enough to sleep on Rin again without being all self-conscious about it, and if Rin was okay with that being a thing, then Bon would just have to trust for now. That's what friends did, after all. Trust.

* * *

><p><span>Omake<span>

Tears welled up in Angel's eyes and he hunched over, his hair falling in a curtain around his face. He swore he heard a chorus of heavenly voices singing somewhere in the distance, and he shoved another spoonful of curry into his mouth.

It was divine. The thought of swallowing felt like sacrilege, and yet Angel found himself always returning to the same thought: who, or what, had made the food. If Okumura Rin was of the Devil, then the real sacrilege was in calling anything of him heavenly. But the curry, the rice, the pure light of the flavor dancing in his mind... he found that he could not stop himself from devouring mouthful after mouthful.

So he compromised.

Until such a time as Okumura Rin was proven the child of Satan, his food could be divine. After that, Angel would simply have to settle for it being sinful instead.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Just a note: Shiemi's _Rina-chan_ is actually a sort of fungi called _Mycena asterina_ (tiny stars).

Don't forget to head over to Mirror Shards!


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